


The Spectacular Dancing Spider Pt. I

by WolfMeister



Series: Spectacular Dancing Spider [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: AU, Aliens, Attempted Murder, Bank Robbery, Burglary, Character Death, Child Abuse, College, Crime Fighting, Dogs, Dreams and Nightmares, F/F, F/M, Fist Fights, Flirting, Identity Reveal, Interrogation, Interviews, Laser Tag, Legend of Zelda References, Long, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Marriage Proposal, My friends' spidersonas, Norman Osborn's A+ parenting, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outer Space, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker is Still Spider-Man, Pining, Psalidiphobia, San Francisco, Schizophrenia, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Spidersona, Star Trek References, Studio Ghibli References, Symbiote - Freeform, Tags May Change, Unresolved Sexual Tension, harry has a cat, main focus is not the relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-08-10 15:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 62,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20137471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfMeister/pseuds/WolfMeister
Summary: Alright people, let's do this one last time. My name is Jazzy Joyce. I was bitten by a radioactive peacock spider and for a while I have been the one and only Dancing Spider. You know the rest.(This is just a really long fic that I'm writing about my spidersona. She doesn't actually get her powers for a while, but I needed to set stuff up first. I don't know if this will ever have an end tbh. I will update tags with almost each chapter as things and new characters are added. I update irregularly. This is not edited)





	1. Chapter 1

San Francisco. One of the few towering cities in the United Tribes of America. So different from Jazzy’s home in the hills and plains of the Arapahoe region. She breathes in the city air as she steps out of her parents’ car and moves toward the main entrance of the hotel she’ll be staying in for a few days. The smell of gasoline with metallic hints hits her olfactory in the most pleasant way.

Another car drives up and parks next to hers. As the car rolls to a stop a beautiful girl jumps out the passenger side. Her brown hair dipped in the color of pale roses bounces around her freckled shoulders and bronzed features. A bright smile is directed toward Jazzy as she embraces the smaller girl. Jazzy’s mouth turns upward in an almost automatic response.

“I’m so glad to be out of the car!” she exclaims.

“Yeah, me too Jenny,” Jazzy replies with a breathy laugh. “Are you ready to move into your dorm?”

Jenny pulls back, hands on Jazzy’s shoulders. “Let me worry about that later,” she says with an eye roll. “I want to enjoy the city today! And I want to enjoy it with you.” Jazzy tilts her head, eyes flickering to the ground between their feet.

“It’s a date then.” Jenny leans forward, swooping her head beneath Jazzy’s and pressing a kiss to her lips. Someone clears their throat behind Jazzy. They both turn toward the sound and see Jazzy’s father leaning against a couple of suitcases.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we need to check-in,” he states. Jazzy nods.

“I’ll see you down in the lobby in, hmm,” Jazzy scrunches her nose. “Like 10, 15 minutes?”

“Yeah, sounds great!” Jenny returns to her car where her mother is waiting. Jazzy walks over to her dad and takes one of the suitcases. Her mom shuts the trunk of their car and joins them as they enter the hotel. Jazzy stands slightly behind her parents as they check-in with the receptionist and zones out their conversation.

They head up to the third floor and Jazzy drops off her suitcase before Jazzy heads back to the lobby with a quick, “See ya later!” to her parents. She waits in one of the plush armchairs and watches as strangers come and go. Several minutes pass before Jazzy sees Jenny walking briskly toward her. Her galaxy print purse is slung around her shoulders and her hair is pulled up in a ponytail.

“Ready to go?”

“Sure.” Jazzy stands from the armchair, smoothing down the back of her sweatpants. “Where we heading?”

“Don’t know.” Jenny holds her hand out to Jazzy who willingly takes it. “Figured we’d just walk around, maybe find out what’s close to your campus.”

The two step out of the hotel and head down the street and look at the stores they pass. There’s a few clothing stores, as to be expected, and several cafes. The two look through the large glass windows of stores with wares on display, so unfamiliar to them and their small town.

“I like it here already,” Jenny says, eyes sparkling with wonder and joy. Jazzy looks up at her girlfriend’s face with soft eyes and a soft smile. Jenny turns to face her. “But I already knew that.”

“Hopefully that love of the city stays with us through college, huh?” Jenny nods before squeezing Jazzy’s hand and pointing at the first cable car that passes them by that day. “I think we should get some lunch, yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” The two continue down the street hand-in-hand looking around at the different buildings and what’s inside them. “Oh! How about sushi?” Jenny doesn’t wait for an answer before pulling Jazzy across the busy street and toward the sushi bar. A chill of adrenaline shoots through Jazzy’s veins as a car barely misses them. Jenny stops a few feet away from a glass door with golden letters painted on it reading Flying Fish Sushi. Inside Jazzy can see a revolving sushi belt and several filled booths with laughing guests. There are also fish shaped lights hanging low from the ceiling. 

“Wanna go in?” Jenny wonders, taking a step forward. Jazzy nods and they enter the restaurant with the metallic ding of the doorbell. Jazzy looks around at the warm wooden walls and soft lighting. She breathes in the scent of fish and tea. There is the near endless sound of clinking plates as the patrons take dishes from the belt and deposit their empty plates down a slot by their booths. The atmosphere of the restaurant is very comforting.

The hostess comes up to them, asking how many before leading them to a booth. “Have you been here before?” she wonders.

“No,” Jenny states.

“Alright. Welcome! So, you take a plate from the belt, whatever you want to eat. Once you finish with the plate you put it in that slot. Only plates, no bowls, no utensils. If you want to order something that isn’t on the belt, you can use the screen right here.” She points to a touchscreen above their plate slot and attached to the belt. “This is also where you’ll pay, and the amount of money depends on how much you eat. Also, once you reach a certain amount of plates, you get a prize. Enjoy!” The hostess leaves and the two girls focus their attention on the plates moving on the belt.

“Jenny,” Jazzy says while taking a plate with two Philedelphia rolls. “I think I want fish lights.” Jenny laughs, hand coming up to cover her mouth. Her eyes twinkle in amusement before flickering up to the pink fish hovering over their table.

“They’d definitely give your dorm some personality.” She reaches toward the belt and brings two plates down to their table. “What do you say, Jazz? Let’s try to get the most prizes possible?”

“I don’t know, are we that hungry?” Jazzy replies, taking another plate for herself. Jenny shrugs as she pours them both some soy sauce. “I think we should at least get two though.”

“Race you for it?”

Jazzy grins in response as she shoves the sushi in front of her into her mouth and slides the plates into the slot. The two continue to eat, sharing each other’s food and gorging themselves on the most delicious sushi either of them have had. They end up getting two prizes--each costing 15 plates--and then they have to slow their roll.

“Ugh, I think I’m done. Too much sushi,” Jazzy groans. “Thirty-four plates ain’t bad though.”

“Yeah, I’m done too. I’ll pay.” Jenny grumbles as she straightens her spine and taps her Unit Card™ against the screen. A receipt makes its way out from the top of the screen and Jenny takes it. She folds it and puts it into her purse along with her card. They get up and say goodbye to the hostess. Jazzy takes Jenny’s hand as they continue down the street.

“I think this is the way to my campus, right?” Jazzy says while looking around after at least half an hour of walking. “Some of these shops seem familiar.”

“Well, it’s definitely not close to mine,” Jenny says with a laugh. “Maybe we can find your dorm building.” Jenny tugs Jazzy down the sidewalk until they reach a large open area of lush emerald grass. She stops and wraps her arm around Jazzy’s waist, the smaller girl sighing as she leans into Jenny’s warmth.

Jazzy looks around and nods. “Definitely my campus.”

“Beautiful campus for a beautiful person. I approve.” Jazzy turns her head in Jenny’s side with a wide smile lighting her face. Jenny presses a kiss to the crown of Jazzy’s head. A buzz runs up Jazzy’s body as her phone begins ringing. She sighs and pulls it out, answering the call from her mother.

“Yeah, Mom?”

“You two should head back here before dinner,” her mother responds. “We can all eat together.”

“Sure thing. We can start heading back now…?” Jazzy says, looking up at Jenny. Jenny gives a nod but otherwise doesn’t move. “See you in a bit.”

They begin their walk back to the hotel, talking and laughing as they go. As they pass a jewelry store, Jenny stops, causing Jazzy to backtrack. She stares into the glass window at the necklaces on display. Jazzy knows that look.

“The diamond necklaces giving you a revelation?” Jazzy wonders.

“Yeah. Sure. The necklaces are.” Jazzy furrows her brows and opens her mouth, but Jenny shakes herself and returns her attention to the rest of her surroundings. She smiles at Jazzy. “Sorry, let’s go back to the hotel.”

Jenny remains relatively silent for the rest of their walk back. Jazzy doesn’t question it, used to her girlfriend getting lost in thought. But as the hotel pops back into view, a question that has been nagging at the back of Jazzy’s head spills out of her mouth.

“How come you’re staying at the same hotel I am?”

“Hm?” Jenny turns her head slightly. “Wanted to be as close to you for as long as possible, Jazz. Plus, this hotel was cheaper than any by Stanford. Win-win. I also wanted to help you move in since I’m not moving to my dorm for another week.” They enter the lobby and head to the elevators. They enter one, pressing the buttons for their respective floors. “See you for dinner?” Jenny says as the elevator doors open.

“Yeah. Love you,” Jazzy replies, leaning up and pressing a kiss to Jenny’s lips.

“Love you too,” Jenny says as she heads toward her room down the hall of the second floor. Jazzy makes it to her room and promptly jumps on her bed. She groans as she flips on her back and kicks off her shoes. Her dad is on his laptop, checking emails, and her mom is reading something on her tablet. Jazzy sighs and closes her eyes, drifting off to sleep much quicker than she thought possible. Maybe she won’t be seeing Jenny at dinner after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Jazzy awakes the next day with the sun beaming through the window. She blinks and looks around, reminding herself that she’s in a hotel room. She sees her dad at the sole desk in the room and her mother sitting upright in the other queen-sized bed with her tablet in her lap. Pretty much exactly what she fell asleep to.

“Oh shit,” Jazzy mumbles. “It’s moving day.” Her mom looks over at her.

“You’re awake,” she states.

“What time do we have to be there?”

Her mother looks back at her tablet. “Move-in starts at ten. We’ll leave at nine forty-five so we can get a good parking spot.”

“Breakfast as soon as I’m ready, I guess. Lemme take a shower.” Jazzy stretches her arms overhead and arches her back before swinging her legs out of the bed and grabbing some clothes from her suitcase. She heads to the bathroom and places her clothes on top of the toilet before turning the shower on and hopping into the water.  
They go downstairs to the dining area once Jazzy has finished her shower and gotten dressed. Jenny and her mother are already sitting at one of the larger tables. Jenny waves at them as Jazzy and her parents proceed to grab their breakfast. Jazzy gets some toast, a scoop of breakfast potatoes, and one small packet of butter for her toast. She gets a cup of water and heads over to where Jenny is sitting.

“Hey, baby,” Jenny greets. “What time we heading to San Fran State?”

“Nine forty-five. I can help you move in next week, if you want.”

“Sure, that would be great. At least I’m on the first floor though.”

Jazzy bites down on some of her potatoes. She groans. “I hate the sixth floor already,” she says, covering her mouth with her hand. “Fuck stairs, honestly.” Jenny laughs. “I just hope my roomie isn’t awful.”

“The downside of not going to the same college as me,” Jenny sighs.

“There was no way I was going to even try going to Stanford.” Jazzy’s parents sit down at the table and they start eating. Jenny and Jazzy’s parents strike up a conversation, one that Jazzy is not particularly interested in. Jazzy focuses on her food and finishes eating before everyone else, though the potatoes leave a bad taste in her mouth as the free food at hotels always do. Jenny finishes soon after.

“Wanna just, hang out upstairs?” Jazzy mutters. Jenny nods before taking her and Jazzy’s empty paper plates and tossing them in the trash. She comes back to the table, though doesn’t take her seat. “We’re gonna be upstairs, in uh, our room. Okay?”

“Sure, go have fun,” Jenny’s mother says. “Not too much fun though.”

Jenny rolls her eyes. “Geez, Ma, calm down, we aren’t gonna do anything.” The two start making their way to the elevators. She bends down and whispers in Jazzy’s ear, “We don’t have enough time to anyway.” Jazzy snorts and bends forward with laughter. They head to Jazzy’s hotel room after a short elevator ride and sit down on Jazzy’s bed.

They start talking about nothing in particular before Jenny leans forward and kisses Jazzy. The latter wraps her arms around Jenny’s neck and kisses back. Jazzy barely pulls back, eyes half-closed.

“Thought we didn’t have enough time to do anything?”

“We have enough time for a short make-out, right?”

Jazzy laughs and responds with another kiss. In a couple of seconds Jazzy finds herself in Jenny’s lap with Jenny biting her neck. Jazzy breathily sighs, pressing her own face into Jenny’s neck and pressing soft kisses to the expanse of skin stretched out before her. Jenny moves her lips up Jazzy’s neck and around her jaw before finding her mouth. Jenny sucks Jazzy’s bottom lip between her teeth before their tongues dance in the most familiar way.

Jenny pulls back, resting her forehead against Jazzy’s. They hold eye contact for several moments before they both break down into giggles.

“We should get ready,” Jazzy says once she manages to control her laughter. Jenny nods, still grinning with a few chuckles escaping her. “Before my parents come back.” Jazzy reluctantly climbs off of Jenny’s lap and the bed. She unplugs her phone charger and puts it inside her already stuffed backpack. After she quickly brushes her teeth, she puts her toiletry bag inside her suitcase and zips everything up. Jazzy looks over to Jenny still sitting on the bed, watching her move with a smile on her face and a soft look in her eyes. “What?” Jazzy wonders.

“This is nice,” Jenny replies. “Domestic. I could do this forever.” Jazzy smiles back, her tongue twisting itself into knots. Even after four years of knowing each other and nearly all that time spent together, Jenny still renders her speechless.

“Too bad we’re not in space though,” Jazzy finally manages to say, causing Jenny to snort.

“Well, sorry to break it to ya, honey, but we can’t have everything.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jazzy states, head tilting. Her lips twist upward into a slight smirk. “I might have my everything.”

“Sap,” Jenny mutters, standing from the bed. She leans down and quickly pecks Jazzy on the cheek as the room door opens.

“Are you ready to go?” Jazzy’s mom asks. Jazzy nods in response. “We’ll leave in ten minutes. Jenny, you might want to go downstairs and pack your things.”

“Oh, right,” Jenny says. “That’s important.” She gives Jazzy’s cheek another kiss before waving at the Joyce’s and leaving the room. “See y’all in a bit!”

Jazzy sits back down on her bed, flopping backwards and pulling out her phone. She mindlessly scrolls through her Instafinity feed as her parents brush their teeth and pack all of their belongings. She yawns and startles when her father nudges her foot. Jazzy turns her phone off, putting it back in her pocket.

“We leaving?”

“Yeah. Come on, we have to check out,” he responds. Jazzy pushes herself off the bed and puts her shoes on. She grabs her backpack, slinging it over her right shoulder, then takes her suitcase in her hand. They leave the room and head to the lobby. Jazzy and her mother head outside to their car as Jazzy’s father checks out of the hotel. They shove their suitcases in the car cluttered with Jazzy’s things and are soon joined by her dad.

They soon arrive at Jazzy’s dorm, Jenny and her mother right behind them. Jazzy is dropped off in front of her dorm building and she makes her way inside, backpack unnecessarily slung across her shoulders. She sees a rather short line of presumably other students and she makes her way to the back of said line. The front of the line disappears into what appears to be the building’s common area. Jazzy shifts uncomfortably, eyes darting around the area as the line steadily moves forward. Her eyes move to the linoleum floor after accidentally making contact with a parent down the hall. She shuffles forward until she reaches a foldable table with someone near her age sitting behind it.

“Hey, welcome to SFSU, have you done the paperwork yet?” the guy says.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Okay, let me just get you the papers. Read them, sign them. If there’s no place to sign, it’s yours to keep, got it?”

“Yeah.” Jazzy takes the small stack of papers and a pen from the guy and goes to sit down at one of the empty tables. She quickly reads and fills out the forms before going to a different line. She makes it to the front in no time and is greeted by a golden haired girl. Jazzy awkwardly hands her the papers along with the pen.

“Thank you,” the girl says with a smile. “What’s your name and room number?”

“Uh, Jazlyn Joyce. Room 607.” The girl begins looking through a stack of card keys before pulling one out with Jazzy’s name and room number printed on it.

“Here’s your card, don’t lose it. After you get your student ID you can use that as your room key too. Check-in with your RA--they’ll be in a tie-dye shirt--and then you can start moving your stuff in. If you have any questions, just ask any of the RAs around.”

“Alright, thanks.” Jazzy nods her head slightly before walking out of the lounge room. Jazzy taps her thigh before heading up the closest set of stairs and up to the sixth floor. She has to stop to catch her breath on the third floor. Jazzy quickly texts her parents and Jenny her room number before walking over to the person wearing a tie-dye shirt and holding a clipboard. After a short conversation with the RA, the signing of more papers, and a quick look around her dorm, Jazzy is able to move in. Jazzy’s father comes up first with the minifridge, placing the appliance in the corner of the room. With the help of her parents, Jenny, and Jenny’s mom, soon all of Jazzy’s stuff is crammed into one side of the rather small room. Her dad helps raise the bed up until she can fit the desk underneath.

“I’m going to go back to the hotel, okay Jennifer?” Jenny’s mother says, standing by the door.

“Okay, Ma,” Jenny says, giving her mother a quick hug before the latter leaves. “I’ll just get a ride with your parents, Jazz. Or walk back, doesn’t really matter to me. You meet your roommate yet?”

“Nope. She hasn’t shown up. Maybe she wanted to move in after everyone else?” Jazzy shrugs. “I gotta go to an office somewhere in the student union building to get my ID. Come with?”

“Course,” Jenny replies. “Your parents?”

“Getting lunch. They gave me some units for food when we need it.”

The two make their way down the stairs and head toward the student union building. They climb up to the third floor of the building once there and find a line winding its way outside of an office.

“This for IDs?” Jenny asks one of the people waiting. He nods. “Thanks.” Jenny and Jazzy find their way to the back of the line.

“This is surreal,” Jazzy states after a while of sitting and slowly moving down the line of chairs. “College, I mean. Not waiting in line.”

Jenny laughs. “I understood what you meant. How’s it surreal though?”

“I just,” Jazzy sighs and runs her hand under her dark brown hair. “I didn’t think I was gonna go. So this is strange.” Jenny drapes her arm around Jazzy’s shoulders and pulls her closer. “I’m only here because of you. And Eddie Brock of course.”

“And your parents. But I’m glad I’m of some use. Your turn for the picture, babe.” Both of them stand from their seats, Jazzy going into the office with Jenny staying outside, leaning against the wall. Jazzy takes her picture and is told to come back later or the next day to pick up her ID. Jazzy leaves the office, taking Jenny’s hand and leading her back down to the ground level.

After lunch, Jazzy and Jenny spend a lot of time unpacking Jazzy’s things. Her parents help as well. They leave to go back to the hotel once most of the items have found their place. Jazzy sighs, knowing she should unpack the rest of her things, but instead she crashes on her bed, already set up with a mattress pad and sheets. She looks over to the other bed, bare and unmoved. No sign at all of her roommate. Jazzy lays on the bed for a while before getting up and searching through her things for her posters. As she’s hanging them up around her side of the room, the door opens and a lithe girl with dark hair down to her waist enters. Jazzy is held captive by her shocking blue eyes and intense teal lipstick.

“I’m Levina, guess we’re roommates,” the girl says. Jazzy nods.

“I’m Jazzy. Hi.”

Levina slings a couple of duffel bags off her shoulders and throws them on her bed. Jazzy finishes hanging up the poster in her hands as Levina walks around the small dorm. She stops in front of Jazzy’s desk.

“You have a pet?” she questions.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I know it’s not a fish so I technically can’t have it, but don’t tell anyone? Please?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Tufted peacock spider. His name is Stan. Non-deadly, technically can’t even bite people so it isn’t a problem.”

Levina hums and continues walking around the room. Jazzy cannot help but feel like her roommate is acting strange. She chalks it up to a new environment and moving stress. Jazzy couldn’t blame her for that. She looks over at Stan’s glass home, but is unable to see her tiny spider friend. She hopes the move doesn’t stress him out too much. Too bad she couldn’t bring her dog.

“Um, what’s your major?” Jazzy asks timidly.

“Biology.”

“Oh, cool. I’m majoring in journalism.”

Levina eventually sits down on her bed and slowly, methodically empties her duffel bags. Jazzy opens her mouth to ask if she brought anything else, then decides against it. Instead, she finishes hanging up her posters, the two of them remaining silent. Jazzy almost asks another question when Levina begins pulling out plastic jars of assorted liquids and materials. She does, however, make a surprised, concerned noise when Levina pulls out what appears to be a giant needle. One that she has only seen in movies. Her roommate glares at her, eyes cold and filled with a warning, before putting the needle in her desk drawer while maintaining eye contact.

It’s going to be a rough year.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is pretty short

“She gives me vibes, Jenny!” Jazzy says when her girlfriend comes to get her the next day. Jazzy just picked up her student ID and met Jenny on the first floor of the student union building, or the SUB, as she found out people call it. “And not good ones!”

“Okay, then get a room change?”

“I’d so rather not. I’d have to move all my stuff and it isn’t like she’s bothering me.”

“But your vibes are usually right, baby,” Jenny points out.

“She has to room with someone, and at least I’m not going to trust her until she proves that I can. I’d rather take the hit than someone else, yanno?”

Jenny stops and smiles at her. “I know you don’t think you are,” she says as Jazzy halts and looks back at her. “But you really are one of the nicest people I know.”

“But you’re biased,” Jazzy says with a fond smile.

“You’re damn right I am.” Jenny pecks Jazzy’s lips. “Next week for my move-in, okay?”

“Yeah. Did you know my parents are leaving today?”

“I think they’re done with college move-ins,” Jenny chuckles. “Kind of glad I’m an only child. Can’t really blame them though, it is annoying."


	4. Chapter 4

The next week, after Jazzy’s first week of classes and she’s found all the books she needs to rent and/or buy, Jazzy heads down to Stanford to help Jenny move into her dorm. They are able to finish moving her in relatively quick and both get to know Jenny’s roommate, Chey. The three of them find themselves getting along quite well, talking to each other over lunch. Jazzy takes a taxi to and from Stanford, wishing that she could see more of the city.

She ends up doing so the next day.

Jazzy takes another taxi to the heart of San Francisco. She stands on the sidewalk near the buildings and watches as a trolley passes by. A smile blooms on her face as she takes in the city again. Jazzy puts her earbuds in and starts one of her playlists. After a few moments she decides to just hop onto a trolley and get off when she sees something that catches her attention. She buys a trolley pass on her phone before finding the closest station and getting on. She sits down next to a guy tapping away on his phone.

The trolley rolls along, stopping every now and again. Jazzy feels the eyes of someone on her nearly the whole time. Her eyes dart around, a feeling of relative unease coming over her. A couple of seats away sitting across from her, Jazzy locks eyes with a guy. She feels her walls come up with the familiar feeling of rising anxiety. He licks his lips and rises from his seat while maintaining eye contact.

“Hey!” someone shouts, loud enough to cut through her music. A guy significantly taller than her with dark brown hair comes over to Jazzy, sitting down next to her. She can’t help but think that she’s seen him before. Jazzy removes one of her earbuds. “It’s been a hot sec since we’ve seen each other!” He wraps an arm around Jazzy’s shoulders and pulls her in for a hug. “Don’t freak out,” he whispers in Jazzy’s ear. “I saw that guy eyeing you, and not in a good way. I’m assuming you don’t know him?”

“Yeah,” Jazzy whispers back. “Thank you.” She glances at the mentioned man to find him glaring at the two of them. She pulls out of the hug. Her eyes immediately fixate on the boy’s hands and forearms covered in burn scars.

“So, where you headed?”

Jazzy’s head whips up. “Uh, nowhere. Just wanted to see what’s around.”

“I could show you a bomb-ass café,” he exclaims. “That’s where I’m going anyway.”

“Sure,” she replies with a shrug. “What’s your name?”

A look of surprise crosses his face. “Oh. I’m Harry Osborn.” Jazzy’s eyes widen. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, just moved here for college. I’m Jazzy Joyce.”

The trolley stops and Harry pats her shoulder before standing up. “Alright. Our stop!” Jazzy stands up and hesitantly follows the heir to Oscorp and the entire Osborn fortune. She’s not sure what to make of him. They get off the trolley and Harry leads Jazzy a short way to the corner of the street where a small café sits, the lovely smell of roasted coffee emanating from the storefront. Roasted Haven, the awning has written across it. Harry opens the door allowing Jazzy to enter first.

The entire interior is designed with a warm, comforting palette. The smell of coffee feels like its own shot of caffeine, and the soft sounds of chatter are occasionally covered by the sound of the espresso machine. Harry walks up to the counter, hands in his pockets and looking absolutely at ease. Jazzy hastily follows him.

“I’ll pay for whatever you want,” Harry informs her.

“Hiya, Harry,” the cashier greets. “The usual?”

“Sure, and whatever Jazzy wants.”

Jazzy hums. “I’ll have a medium caramel frappuccino. And...a cake pop?”

“Sure thing. That’ll be twenty units.” Harry taps his card against the register. “Here’s your cake pop and I’ll have those drinks right up for you.” Jazzy takes the pink frosted cake pop.

“Thanks,” Harry replies, leading Jazzy to a table near one of the windows. They remain silent until Harry’s name is called and he comes back to their table with their drinks.

“So, uh, why’d you help me?” Jazzy speaks up.

“It seemed like the right thing to do,” Harry states with nonchalance. “Plus, I needed something..._interesting_ today. Why I’m even out and about.”

“What? Your life is boring?” Jazzy scoffs.

“It’s not as fun as it used to be.”

“In New York?”

“Yup,” Harry says, popping the ‘p’ and taking a sip of his iced latte. “I don’t have as many friends here. And one less person at home.” Jazzy takes a long drink, unsure of how to respond. “So, college? I guess you’re older than me. I’m still in high school, technically. What’re you studying?”

“Yeah, I guess. And journalism.”

“Yeah? What made you want to...uh,” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “If you want me to shut up I’ll do that. You seem like you want me to shut up.”

“No, no. It’s fine, I just don’t know how to act around new people.” Jazzy averts her eyes and takes a bite from her cake pop. “And to answer your question, Eddie Brock. Also kinda why I came here.”

“Oh that’s cool. I met him once, seems pretty chill,” Harry says. “Don’t think he likes my dad though.”

“I don’t think so either,” Jazzy chuckles.

“Didn’t he fuck over his entire life though?” Harry wonders. Jazzy nods.

“But he did great shit before that.”

They fall into silence again, Jazzy finishing off her cake pop and Harry taking long sips from his drink. Jazzy’s eyes incessantly move around, taking in the café and studying Harry’s features. She notes his light make-up, dark eyeliner accentuating his green eyes. She tries her best not to stare at his hands. Jazzy clears her throat when Harry’s latte dwindles close to the bottom of his cup. “So, what do you like to do?”

“I play video games probably too much. I like dancing.” Harry shrugs.

Jazzy grins. “I like dancing too. Maybe we could have a dance-off.”

“That would be super fun,” Harry nearly exclaims, his own smile making an appearance. “I’m gonna hold you to that, Jazzy. But I gotta have your number if we’re gonna plan this.”

“That was the smoothest anyone has ever asked for my number,” Jazzy says with an eye roll. Harry’s eyes widen.

“Oh. Oh my god that’s so not what I meant,” he says, waving his hand. “I just meant…”

“I know, relax!” Jazzy holds her hand out. “I’ll give you my phone number.” Harry quickly unlocks his phone and creates a new contact before handing it to the person sitting across from him. Jazzy types in her number and her name, then sends herself a text from his phone before giving it back. Harry stares down at his screen for a moment.

“I don’t usually give people my number,” he states. “Don’t be a dick about it, alright?”

“Promise I won’t be a dick.”

“Okay good. I’ll know if you do anything. I have my ways,” Harry says with greatly exaggerated mystery. Jazzy stares him down but breaks down into laughter when he starts wiggling his eyebrows. He grins, leaning back in his chair and looking rather smug.

“Can you show me other places around here?” Jazzy hesitantly asks once her laughter has dissipated.

“Absolutely! I can show you the mall if you’d like.”

“That would be awesome. Thanks, man.”


	5. Chapter 5

Jazzy and Harry stand outside one of the many skyscrapers lining the streets of San Francisco. There is an unending stream of people entering and exiting the place. Jazzy looks up, the back of her head nearly parallel with the ground. A shimmering, sparkling holographic sign above the building proudly announces that the building is home to Jubilee Plaza. The building itself shimmers in a near holographic way reflecting different colors onto the skyscrapers across from it. Harry looks over at Jazzy and smiles. They enter the building together and Jazzy’s jaw nearly hits the floor.

Once her eyes grow accustomed to the bright colors of the interior, Jazzy takes in her surroundings, the likes of which she’s never seen. Glass elevators and transparent escalators continuously move people through the building. She hears the endless chatter throughout the mall, the sizzling of food from the food court that she knows is somewhere above them. Jazzy walks closer to the sign in the center of the ground floor that lists the different themes of the different floors: one for food, some for clothes, one for arcades, and others as well. Jazzy’s favorite part of it all? The almost mesmerizing and seemingly endless fireworks exploding in the upper floors.

“Welcome to Jubilee Plaza,” Harry says. “There are only six other places like it on Earth, and thankfully one of those places is here. San Francisco.”

“This is amazing,” Jazzy breathes. “Where are the others located?”

“There’s one in New York, Hong Kong, London, Qosqo, Tenochtitlán, and of course, Genosha.”

“Genosha?” Jazzy looks over at Harry, finally taking her eyes off of the fireworks. “A mutant owns this place? Awesome.”

“Yup. Those fireworks are hers.” Harry plants his hands on his hips before looking upward. “They never get old.”

“God, this is amazing,” Jazzy says again, looking up at the fireworks once more. “Where to first, Harry? What’s the best place here?”

“That’s a tough question, Jazzy. It all depends on what you want to do though. If you’re hungry, then we’ll go to the food court. If you want to go to an arcade, I’ll take you to the one I like best. Or I could just take you shopping. Either way I’ll probably pay for whatever you want. Up to you.”

Jazzy crosses her arms as she ponders her options. “I’m not hungry enough for a food court yet,” she replies. “Arcade?”

Harry grins. “Great choice. C’mon.” Harry heads toward one of the longer escalators and leans against the handrail. Jazzy joins him on his step.

“What else can you do here?”

“Pretty much everything. There’s a planetarium on the roof and you can also just stargaze, cloud gaze, whatever up there.” Harry taps his chin as he thinks about what else the mall holds. “On most holidays Jubilee has a fireworks show on the roof. There’s a trampoline room and a foam pit. All that’s missing is an amusement park, honestly.”

“I fucking love foam pits,” Jazzy says, dead serious. “There’s no age limit right?”

“Not that I know of,” Harry says with a laugh.

The escalator ends on the fourth floor from the top facing an entirely glass wall. Harry has to drag Jazzy away from the escalator as she stares out across the city. She can just see the Golden Gate Bridge peeking out between other skyscrapers.

“The view from the roof is better,” Harry mutters.

“I bet.” Jazzy forces her eyes away from the window. “Let’s go play some games.”

“Foam pit after?”

“Foam pit after.”

Harry leads Jazzy to the left of the escalators and into an enormous, darkened room with lights twinkling along the ceiling reminding her of the stars. The area is crowded with all ages of people playing games of all types. She sees classic arcade games, pinball machines, first person shooters, racing games, claw machines, and there’s even a queue that appears to be for laser tag. There’s the glorious smell of pizza wafting through the entire area. She smiles; Jenny would love it here.

“This is my favorite of the arcades. Mostly because it has laser tag and a go-kart track,” Harry states, walking toward the token dispenser. “Go-karts are further back.”

“How many arcades are here?”

“Four. They’re all on this floor and they use the same tokens.” Harry taps his card against the token dispenser after selecting how many he wants. Jazzy relishes the steady clink of the metallic coins as they fall to be retrieved. Harry grabs a plastic cup from beside the machine, dumping all of the tokens inside. “We’ll just share, yeah?” Jazzy nods. “Cool.”

“Where to?”

“Up to you,” Harry states. He shakes the cup slightly, tokens clinking against each other. “Though I suggest laser tag because after lunch time the line will get longer.”

“It’s already lunch time? Huh.” Jazzy tilts her head, scanning her options. “Well, you know this place better than me. Laser tag it is.” Harry fist pumps the air before rushing to the laser tag line. Jazzy jogs to keep up with him. “Tall boy need to slow down,” she mutters as they sneak into line in front of a slightly larger group.

“Short girl need to keep up,” Harry snarks back. “Not my fault I was given the glorious gift of long legs.”

“I don’t know what to think of you,” Jazzy replies as she shakes her head.

“Then don’t think.”

Jazzy is about to respond when she hears one of the girls in the group behind them say something, mentioning Harry’s name. Jazzy looks at Harry and opens her mouth to tell him, hand already coming up to gesture behind her.

“Yeah, I heard,” Harry says. “Happens. I’m used to it.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “Someone’s going to ask for a selfie. Watch.” Jazzy raises an eyebrow.

The queue moves forward a significant amount and once they get settled in their new spot, sure enough, a different girl in the group sighs and says, “Fine, I’ll ask him.” She turns toward Harry. “Are you Harry Osborn?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies immediately. He gives a little wave. “Hi.”

“Oh wow,” one or maybe two of the people in the small group murmurs.

“Um, do you want a picture?” Harry wonders.

“Yeah!” the girl that mentioned Harry’s name first exclaims. “Maybe a game of laser tag?” She tilts her head downward. “Oh, god, sorry. That’s so weird.”

“Not that weird,” Jazzy mutters. “Saying we’re in line for laser tag.” The girl glances in her direction.

“Well, Jazzy’s not wrong. Sure, the more the merrier! We could take a group picture after,” Harry says. “On one condition. What’s your names?”

“I’m Sasha,” the first girl says. “These guys are Mina, Kota, and Evie.”

“Hey, this is Jazzy,” Harry introduces, slinging an arm around Jazzy’s shoulders. He turns to look at her. “Wanna fight with or against me?”

“Against. I’m gonna whoop your ass,” Jazzy immediately replies. Harry chuckles. “Who wants to help?” Another group of people exit the laser tag arena, causing Jazzy, Harry, and the group of girls to move forward into the waiting room. They each drop 4 tokens in a slot on their way in. A hologram of a friendly, joyful woman appears before them. She’s wearing a yellow jacket with pink stripes crossing over each other.

“Hey there! I’m Jubilee. Welcome to the best part of the Lasercade!” The hologram of the owner launches into the rules of the laser tag arena. She tells them that they’ll acquire their vests in the next room once the active group finishes their game. “Go ahead and choose your teams, then prepare for battle.”

“I’ll help you whoop the rich kid’s ass,” Kota says to Jazzy. “Wanna help Evie?”

“Hell yeah,” Evie replies. Jazzy grins.

“Sasha, Mina, and I are gonna get you guys so good,” Harry says. “Watch yourselves.”

They soon move to the next room. Jazzy’s team takes the blue vests and guns while Harry’s takes the green. Then they enter the arena, UV lights shining down on them, barely illuminating the freestanding walls and ramps to different levels. They scatter around the area, a bell sounding signalling the beginning of their battle. Jazzy notices that the vests have small speakers, playing music directly into her ears. She switches the music to “dance” music before making her way toward the ramp closest to her. She makes it up to a higher level, swaying to her music, without anyone spotting her.

Jazzy wanders around the upper level before she leans through a window in one of the walls, looking down. She spots a green glow, taking aim and shooting in the general direction of the person. She hears a faint cuss, silently cheering that she hit them. Unfortunately, they spot her and Jazzy realizes it’s Harry. While his suit is down, Harry shelters himself behind a wall. Jazzy decides to move from her spot, heading toward a different ramp. She finds her way down, unsure if anyone but Harry is around. She proceeds to walk normally, though peeks around each wall she comes across. There’s a shout from somewhere across the arena as, presumably, someone else is shot. The shout takes Jazzy’s attention and allows Harry a clean shot.

“Dammit!” Jazzy yells as her vest beeps at her, the lights turning red. Harry disappears behind his wall again. Jazzy’s suit makes another noise, notifying her that she can shoot and get shot again. She puts her gun up and rushes around the wall she saw Harry go behind. She pulls the trigger, but he isn’t there. Jazzy sighs, lowering her laser gun just slightly and slows her pace. She nearly loses herself in the music, but manages to keep an eye out for any green lights.

Sasha and Mina come into her line of sight and Jazzy aims her gun and pulls the trigger rapidly, hoping that she’ll hit at least one of them. Mina notices her first, firing back. She tags Jazzy, but not before Sasha is hit. The two move behind a wall as Jazzy walks closer to them. Her vest lights up blue again. Another blue light passes beside her. She gestures toward her teammate.

“Yeah?” Kota whispers.

“Sasha, Mina behind there, careful,” Jazzy informs, pointing out where the members of the rival team hide.

“Thanks. Saw Harry over there,” she responds, pointing to their right. Kota moves toward where Sasha and Mina are as Jazzy leans against a wall. Mina peeks around her wall and Jazzy whips her gun up, pulling the trigger on her, tagging Mina.

The rest of their game of laser tag goes about the same way; Jazzy walks around casually, either shooting or hiding when she sees someone wearing a green vest. She gives hits, takes hits. Her team wins, much to the chagrin of one Harry Osborn. When they leave the arena, back to the vest room, they all take a picture, Sasha asking for a separate one with just her and Harry. They leave the arena and check the board hanging over the entrance with their scores. Jazzy’s surprised to see her vest under third place. Harry, however, holds the first place.

“Damn you’re good,” Kota says to Harry, herself in second.

“I come here a lot,” he responds with a shrug. “Well it was nice playing with you guys! Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

The two parties split ways, the girls making for the entrance of the arcade. Harry and Jazzy head to the go-karts before spending a few hours playing the wide variety of games then heading down to the food court for a rather late lunch once all their tokens are spent.

“This has been great,” Harry says, mouth full of burger. “We should do this again.”

“Totally,” Jazzy agrees. “But maybe next time we actually go to the foam pit.” Harry covers his mouth as he leans back in his chair and laughs. Harry’s phone buzzes and he takes it from his pocket. His features turn soft as his screen lights up. “What is it?”

“Hm?” Harry hums as he taps a message out. He looks up and Jazzy gestures to his phone. “Oh. It’s my best friend Peter. He’s the best. I wish you could meet him, but he’s in New York.” Harry’s phone buzzes again. His facial features turn from nothing but softness to heavily guarded in less than a second. “Oh shit, that’s my dad. I gotta go.”

“Okay, I’ll walk with you for a bit.”

Harry and Jazzy leave Jubilee Plaza, heading toward the nearest trolley station. Jazzy notices that Harry looks less relaxed than he did the rest of the day. His eyes dart around more, shoulders much more hunched. Jazzy doesn’t feel like it’s her place to say anything though.

“Do you do this often?” Jazzy blurts after walking a block. “Hang out with strangers I mean.”

“Absolutely not,” Harry laughs. “But I really needed something to do today. And what better way to make new friends than hang out with a stranger?”

“There are a lot of better ways, Harry.”

He shrugs. “True, but I think this worked out alright.” Harry sighs, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. A few people grumble as they move around him. “Sorry if this was awkward or whatever for you. I just...I guess I wanted more friends.”

Jazzy doesn’t respond for a while. “Very weird. It was very weird,” she responds. “But you’re cool.”

“So, we’ll hang out again?” Harry says with a grin. Jazzy nods, her own smile gracing her lips, and the two continue walking.

At the trolley station the two part ways. Harry waves with a “Don’t get jumped by anybody,” and Jazzy responds with her own “Don’t die,” that she uses on everyone. Jazzy hops onto the cable car, flashing her phone pass on the entrance. She settles down, putting her earbuds in. It takes her a moment to realize that the trolley isn’t going to take her back to campus. She gets off once it stops and calls up a taxi. 

The ride back to her campus is rather uneventful. She goes up to her dorm and finds Levina sitting at her own desk writing something down in a notebook. She looks up when Jazzy enters and slams her notebook shut. Jazzy ignores it; this isn’t the first time it has happened. Jazzy winds up on her bed before she texts Jenny about some of the highlights of her day and how they should go to Jubilee Plaza together sometime.

**You met Harry Osborn????** Jenny’s first reply reads, quickly followed by, **We have to go to the planetarium**

**Yup Harry Osborn. Pretty chill dude** Jazzy replies immediately. **And yes planetarium** Jazzy sighs, her mind drifting to her abandoned homework. She swings herself out of bed, stumbling slightly when her feet hit the floor. Jazzy sits at her desk and opens her laptop, starting on her homework.


	6. Chapter 6

A couple of weeks later Harry calls--actually calls--Jazzy, asking her if she wants to meet up at Jubilee Plaza. Jazzy agrees, on the condition that Jenny can come along. She’s grateful for any excuse to take a break from her homework.

“The more the merrier,” Harry replies. “She your girlfriend?”

“Uh,” Jazzy says, eyes wide. “I never said I have a girlfriend? I never even said I _like_ girls.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “I guess I just assumed? Look, if I’m wrong, please correct me. I thought you said something about that though.”

Jazzy wracks her brain, trying to remember if she did say anything about having a girlfriend. She figures it’s not out of the realm of possibility. “I mean, she is my girlfriend, but I don’t remember telling you I’m bi…?”

“Maybe my gaydar is just _that_ good,” Harry deadpans. “See you guys in an hour?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Harry hangs up and Jazzy proceeds to text Jenny, asking if she wants to hang out with them. Jenny replies almost immediately.

**Gods yes get me out of here**

**Homework?**

**Yeah. On my way, meet you at campus**

Jazzy grabs her phone and wallet, slips on a pair of sandals, and heads down to the quad to wait for Jenny. She lounges on a bench and puts her earbuds in, just listening to music and watching people mill around. There are some people laying on the grass or sitting on other benches with friends or alone. Other students cross through the quad going from one place to another. Jazzy’s breathing quickly evens out, sending her into an almost meditative state up until Jenny arrives.

When her girlfriend shows up half an hour later, Jazzy’s eyes are closed and her face is toward the sky. She feels a tap on her shoulder and opens her eyes to see Jenny’s face hovering over her own. Jazzy smiles as Jenny presses a kiss to her lips.

“Hey,” Jenny greets. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Jazzy replies, breathless. She stands from the bench and takes in Jenny’s appearance. She’s wearing an off-the-shoulder summer dress the same color as the rosy tips of her hair. The dress falls just above her knees. Her golden gladiator sandals wrap around her ankles in the most flattering way and sparkle in the sunlight.

“Don’t worry,” Jenny says, seeing her looking. “I’m wearing shorts underneath so I can go in the foam pit and not flash anyone.”

“Oh my fucking gods, I forgot about the foam pit,” Jazzy exclaims. Jenny giggles, smile warming Jazzy’s center.

They call a cab and talk about their experiences in college so far as they are driven to the front of Jubilee Plaza. Jenny’s already swamped in homework and Jazzy is continuing to procrastinate as she did in high school even though she told herself she wouldn’t. Jazzy checks the time on her phone once they exit the cab and head inside.

“We’re probably early,” she says. Then she texts Harry a quick, **We’re here**

“He called you?” Jenny wonders, for probably close to the fifth time. “Who the hell?” Jazzy shakes her head in bewilderment.

“Maybe a rich person thing?” Jazzy suggests. “I’ll ask him when he gets here.”

Jazzy’s phone pings with Harry’s response. **K. Be there in a sec**

Jazzy leads Jenny over to the sign with the list of what is located on each floor. They both read it, Jazzy noting the things she missed previously. She finds the location of the trampoline room with the foam pit--top floor--as well as a spa, a pool, and even a gym. Jazzy looks over at Jenny and her wide pale blue eyes taking in all the information.

“This place really does have everything,” Jazzy mutters.

“Told ya,” a familiar voice says. Jazzy turns finding Harry behind them wearing an almost definitely way too expensive green leather jacket with silver studs on the shoulders. He’s wearing stylishly torn jeans and a plain white tank top as well. Jenny slowly turns around too, looking him up and down. Jazzy can tell she’s sizing him up. He waves. “Hey.”

“Hey, man,” Jazzy replies. Jenny narrows her eyes at him. “Why’d you call me?”

“Do you not like calls? My bad,” he states. “I’m just so used to calling people.” He turns his attention to Jenny. “You’re Jenny, right? I’m Harry.” He holds out his hand.

“I know,” she responds, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. “Nice jacket.”

“Thanks!”

“What happened to your hands?” Jenny asks. Jazzy nudges her. “What? Don’t you want to know?” Jazzy grumbles, quietly agreeing.

Harry smiles politely. “I don’t mind.” He starts making his way over to one of the escalators. “Foam pit, right?” The girls nod in agreement. Once they get on the escalator, Harry continues saying, “I got third degree burns when I was trying to help my mom out our burning kitchen. I failed.” He says the last part with a shrug. “I mean obviously, because my mom’s dead.”

“Oh,” Jenny says after a beat of silence. “That’s...awful.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it too much,” Harry says with another shrug.

The rest of their escalator ride is spent in a slightly awkward silence, though it doesn’t seem to affect the youngest of the bunch. Harry spends most of the silence staring somewhere off to his left, humming quietly.

Once they’re off the escalator, Harry leads them to the trampoline room, and the name does not disappoint. Trampolines cover the floor and walls, some even going high enough to bend onto the ceiling. In the center of the trampolines lays a massive foam pit that some people swing into on sturdy ropes hanging from the ceiling or merely jump into it from one of the surrounding trampolines. There are quite a few people already in the room, mostly children and other teenagers. Along the entrance area are small lockers, each row with a list of rules attached. Jazzy nearly squeals when she reads that shoes are not necessary.

“I love this place already,” Jenny states.

The three of them kick off their shoes after Harry rents out one of the lockers. They shove their said shoes, Jenny’s purse, Jazzy’s phone and wallet, and Harry’s jacket into the small cubby. Then they scramble to the giant trampolines. Not even a minute in and Harry is already doing somersaults and flipping through the air.

“Show-off,” Jenny mutters to Jazzy. “Think we can do better?”

“I don’t know, he’s also a dancer,” Jazzy replies. “But we can try.” Jazzy and Jenny hop toward Harry, careful not to bump into anyone or accidentally fall into the foam pit. “Hey Harry,” Jazzy shouts over the laughter and voices of the others in the room. He bounces and spins around to face them. “How many tricks can you do?”

“A lot. You?”

“So much. We were both in gymnastics,” Jenny tells him.

“Yeah? Show me what you got.” Harry crosses his arms and continues to bounce as he watches the two girls before him. Jazzy looks over at Jenny who is smirking with a fire glinting in her eyes. She twists to watch her girlfriend as Jenny performs a complex series of flips, somersaults, and handsprings. She makes it look effortless. 

“Someone works out,” Harry states.

“Well,” Jenny says, while still flipping around. “I’m gonna be an astronaut. I have to.”

“You can stop now, Jen. Think you’ve made your point,” Jazzy says with a small laugh.

“Why? This is fun, baby! Join me!”

Jazzy does. They even join hands and do a few flips together and over each other before Harry joins in too. Jenny is the first to head over to the foam pit, bouncing off the trampoline and flipping into the many soft blocks. Harry makes his way a little closer to Jazzy.

“I don’t think she likes me,” Harry tells her.

“Jenny?” Jazzy says. He nods. “It’s not that, it’s just,” Jazzy sighs, sitting in mid-air, bouncing on the trampoline and then back to her feet. “She doesn’t like your dad.”

Harry visibly bristles, a dark look passing through his eyes. “I’m not my father.”

“I know! She knows. I think it’s just a subconscious comparison,” Jazzy words slowly. “I probably would’ve done the same if the first thing you did to me wasn’t incredibly nice and something most people wouldn’t do.”

“So she’s assuming things about me?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Harry sighs. “Not Peter,” he states, jumping away and into the foam pit. Jazzy follows, grabbing a rope and swinging far into the pit. She scrambles against the squishy blocks, looking up to find both Jenny and Harry out on the trampolines again. Jazzy claws her way back to the trampolines, foam blocks slipping away from her and impeding her progress.

“It looked like you were struggling, Jazz,” Jenny says with a smile when she rejoins her group. “Drowning in foam?”

“Maybe, you’ll never know,” Jazzy replies. Jenny laughs. Jazzy looks over at Harry, giving him a small smile. He smiles back, but he seems more tense than before, like his smile isn’t as natural or his shoulders are too tight. She quickly flashes him a thumbs-up followed by a thumbs-down. His smile falters, but he gives a thumbs-up in response. Jazzy bites her lip, but she doesn’t push it.


	7. Chapter 7

“I’m gonna pick you up and we’re gonna learn a new choreo together at my place,” Harry says over the phone one Saturday morning in early October. “You’re at SF State, right?”

“Yeah, but why?” Jazzy responds. “What if I’m busy?”

“You always procrastinate anyway,” Harry replies. “Plus, dancing.”

“You know I’ll say yes when dancing is involved, Har,” Jazzy sighs. “Even if I am swamped in homework. Which I’m not. But I can only stay until eight because I have a date.”

“Heh, rhyme,” they say in sync.

“Well, it’s only noon. I’ll make you lunch if you haven’t eaten yet. After I pick you up though. Actually I’m gonna make something even if you have eaten because I haven’t,” Harry rambles. Jazzy snorts. “I’ll be there in, like, ten minutes. Quad, go, I’m coming for ya.” Harry ends the call and Jazzy shakes her head fondly as she puts her phone in her pocket.

In less than half an hour, Harry is leading Jazzy up to the Osborn penthouse. Jazzy feels intense nerves wash over her as they exit the elevator and stand in the small area between the elevator and entrance. Harry places his hand on the lock. A click sounds and he pushes the door open.

“Is your dad home?” Jazzy whispers.

“No, working late.”

They step into the penthouse, Jazzy’s nerves lessened. They walk down a short hallway until they come to a large, open lounge area resting in a depression in the floor. There are plush, faux leather couches with a flat screen TV attached to one of the few walls enclosing the area. On the other side of the couches appears to be a dining table. There are glass walls overlooking the rest of San Francisco; a view rivalling that of Jubilee Plaza’s. In the corner of the lounge area is a grand piano. To the left of the depressed area rests a few more couches and several bookshelves.

Harry leads Jazzy to the right of the area and through an archway. Jazzy runs a hand over her face when she sees the even larger dining table. There’s another door on the right, leading to a balcony, and a kitchen to the left of the table. She sees another archway in the kitchen, but is unsure where it leads to. Another hallway by the balcony leads further into the penthouse. Jazzy can tell that she’s barely seen any of the place. She can barely wrap her head around it.

“So, what do you want to eat?” Harry asks, already in the kitchen. Jazzy sits down on one of the barstools around the kitchen island. He opens the fridge and peers inside. “I have leftover pasta. A bunch of cheese. Prosciutto.”

“Combine them all?” Jazzy suggests.

That’s what Harry does. Jazzy watches him cook the simple meal, his hands seeming to work perfectly, with the exception of his fingers not fully extending. Once finished, they eat side-by-side at the kitchen island. The proximity seemed much more appealing than sitting at one of the larger dining tables.

“Where you going for your date?” Harry asks, twirling his fork in the spaghetti.

“Jubilee Plaza planetarium. We haven’t had the chance to yet.”

“You two and space. Why space? Like I know Jenny wants to be an astronaut, but you?”

“Aliens, duh.” Jazzy rolls her eyes. Harry snorts. “It’s all so beautiful and it would be amazing to see it in person, yanno? But also, yeah, aliens.”

After they finish eating--plates and silverware shoved in the dishwasher--Jazzy and Harry take almost an hour to rest, talking and watching some new Vines. They lounge on the dark green sofa in the depressed lounge area, watching the aforementioned Vines on the flatscreen TV.

“Okay, dance time?”

“Yeah, what are we dancing to?”

“Fall Out Boy,” Harry states. “What else?”

“Light ‘Em Up?”

“How’d you know? Are you in my head?” Harry says, sounding suspicious.

“I could be and you wouldn’t know,” Jazzy deadpans. “But no, I don’t have any powers. Show me the choreo. I love your shit.” Harry grins, clearly basking in the praise. He moves to the wide space between the couches and TV.

“Okay, let’s do this.” Harry pulls up the music and shakes out his limbs before playing it and quickly getting into position. Harry taps his foot to the beat, swaying along to the beginning of the song. His choreography begins with the lyrics and uses a variety of hip hop styles. Jazzy watches intently as Harry moves his body, not missing a beat. As the song goes on Harry shows off more complicated moves, which causes Jazzy’s excitement to build. The song ends and Harry bows. Jazzy laughs as she claps. Then she jumps up from her seat.

“I am so ready,” she exclaims. Harry motions for her to stand next to him.

“Alright so, this is how we start…” Harry spends the next several hours walking Jazzy through the routine, every once and awhile having her dance certain sections with the song. They lose track of time and soon it is seven-thirty. Jazzy makes a surprised noise when an alarm on her phone goes off.

“Oh, I gotta go,” she says. “I’ll work on the dance, but I have a date.”

“‘Kay, go have fun.” Harry wraps his arms around Jazzy; she hugs him back. “You enjoy those stars.”

“I will, thanks, Har,” Jazzy chuckles, grabbing her things and waving as she leaves the penthouse.


	8. Chapter 8

Jazzy taps her foot as she runs Harry’s choreography in her head while in one of the glass elevators at Jubilee Plaza. Her fingers begin tapping her thigh and a smile forces its way onto her face as she thinks about Jenny probably already waiting for her on the roof.

The elevator stops, a metal door in front of her. It opens and the roof comes into view. She steps out and to the side, looking around at the very real grass covering the roof with beach chairs and umbrellas spread about. The building’s sign glitters in front of it all. To her right is the beautifully domed planetarium shining in the setting sun where she sees Jenny standing by the entrance. Jazzy makes her way over to her girlfriend and watches as Jenny’s face lights up when she sees her.

“Hey, Jen,” Jazzy greets, leaning up and pecking her lips. “How’s your day been?”

“Chey and I went on an adventure around town! We ate so much, but I’m still hungry,” Jenny says. “What about you?”

“Learned a new dance with Harry after he forced me away from homework,” Jazzy laughs. “Went to the Osborn penthouse and I didn’t even see all of it.”

“Yeesh, that big, huh?” Jenny shakes her head. “Rich people.” Jazzy giggles. “So there’s a couple of shows playing tonight. The first one is one on black holes.”

“Oh fuck yes. I love black hole planetarium movies,” Jazzy says, already entering the building. Jenny laughs. “What else?”

“The other is on how life is possible on planets other than ours. They’re back-to-back. And free.”

“Literally the best news I’ve heard all day.”

An employee greets them and leads them to a set of stairs leading to the theater. Jenny chooses the seats, the best ones of course, and they relax in their seats as more people slowly filter in before the movie. The rim of the dome is lit with the shifting colors of the rainbow. The girls take out their phones and quickly make sure they won’t go off during the movies.

“Wanna get dinner after the movies?” Jenny wonders

“Yeah, haven’t had anything since lunch.”

The door to the room closes and the rainbow lights dim. The same employee that greeted them downstairs appears and introduces the film--_Journey Through a Black Hole_\--before sitting down with the rest of the viewers. Jenny intertwines her fingers with Jazzy’s as the dome around them is filled with a million stars that seem so very real. The two stay entranced by the pictures playing across the dome, hand-in-hand, feeling as though this is where they are meant to go and be together.

When the movie ends, they look at each other, both grinning like idiots. Jenny has tears sparkling in her eyes. She presses her forehead against Jazzy’s as they both attempt to control their hopeful and excited laughter threatening to spill out of them.

“We should make this a weekly thing,” Jenny murmurs. And they do.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ayyy Jazzy actually gets her powers now

It’s a Monday late in the month when Jazzy knows something is wrong with her spider. Stan is acting strange, jumping around like he wants to get out, aggravated by the presence of others. Jazzy rests her chin on her desk, watching the peacock spider refuse to eat.

“C’mon, Stan,” Jazzy mutters. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Her spider doesn’t speak to her, and Jazzy spends the rest of the day more stressed than she should be. She nearly forgets about her pet’s odd behavior the next day until she returns to her dorm after her classes and finds Levina standing over the glass cage, drawing a needle out of the box and closing the lid.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jazzy nearly shouts. Levina looks over at her and raises a perfectly painted on eyebrow. “What are you doing to my spider?”

“Does it matter?” she responds. “He’s still alive.”

A growl rises in the back of Jazzy’s throat. She storms over and pushes her roommate away from her desk. She removes the lid of the glass box and sticks her hand down. Levina smirks before she walks back to her side of the dorm. Stan jumps onto Jazzy’s hand and she lifts him up to her eye level. He crawls onto the tip of her index finger before biting down. Hard.

“Ow! Shit,” Jazzy says, flicking her hand down, flinging Stan back into his cage. She replaces the lid before taking a closer look at her finger. “Sorry, Stan. Did you bite me?”

“Thought peacock spiders can’t bite people,” Levina states without looking up.

“They can’t,” Jazzy replies. Her head whips up to look at Levina. “What did you do?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Fucking tell me.”

Levina sighs. “Fine.” She looks over at Jazzy. “I made him stronger.”

Jazzy climbs onto her bed, unable to take her eyes off the angry red bite mark that shouldn’t be there. She lays down and feels a wave of fatigue washing over her. She pulls her blankets over her. They feel scratchy against her skin, as though she has a fever. Jazzy’s eyelids droop, unable to remain open, and she succumbs to the sweet lull of sleep.

When she wakes up, the sun is shining and Levina is nowhere to be seen. Jazzy rolls over and checks the time on her phone. It’s the next day. Jazzy bolts upright and groans, pressing her hand to her forehead as an agonizing headache nearly splits her skull apart.

_Shit._ Her thoughts, somehow amplified in her own mind, worsen her headache. _Gods, fuck. Water._ Jazzy can’t help but cringe with each thought.

She looks at her index finger, but there’s no sign of a spider bite. Jazzy slips out of bed and onto the floor, landing perfectly on her toes. She walks over to her desk and grabs her water bottle, still clutching her head. She takes a long drink and the headache eases until it’s bearable. She sighs and gets dressed, putting on leggings and a sports bra. She’s already late for her first class, might as well get in some dancing.

Jazzy stretches before starting one of her favorite routines that Harry came up with. She dances without incident, even better than she usually does. Until the song hits the chorus and she performs the jump move. Or at least, she tries to.

“What the fuck?” she says, hands coming up to try and push her head out of the ceiling. Jazzy pops her head out of the hole she made, and tries to drop down to the floor, but her fingers won’t detach from the ceiling. She looks up and can see the utilities hidden by the ceiling panels and she wonders why her head doesn’t hurt anymore than it already did. She pulls her arms down harder, but her fingers don’t move. Jazzy swings her feet up too, pushing her body toward the floor. “Stop sticking!” she shouts. Her fingers come loose and she falls onto her back. Jazzy stares up at the ceiling, unsure of how to explain the hole to anyone.

Jazzy lays there for a while before finally noticing a thin thread of silk coming from her ankles and going straight up. She sits up, yanking at the thread and realizing it isn’t unlike spider silk. She feels them detach from her ankles. Jazzy balls the thread up in her hand and mindlessly puts it in her mouth, feeling it dissolve like cotton candy, as she twists her leg and looks closer at her ankle. She rubs her fingers over small, twin bumps that weren’t there yesterday.

“Spinnerets? What the hell?” Jazzy whispers. She stands up and grabs her phone, pressing the power button. The phone shatters in her hand. Her eyes widen and she freezes, not even worried about the glass in her hand. Jazzy carefully walks over to her trash under her desk and drops the ruins of her phone into it. She picks the shards of glass out of her hand, ignoring the blood, and carefully--with two fingers--pulls the chair back from her desk and sits down. Jazzy looks at her laptop, knowing she needs to email her professors that she won’t be in class and at least text her parents or Harry that she needs a new phone. Explaining to Harry would probably be easier. Jazzy also wants to find out what’s happening, or what happened to her.

Jazzy takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She very gingerly opens her laptop with just her thumbs. She types in her password slowly, barely applying pressure to the keys. Jazzy continues in the same fashion when typing out an email to her professors saying that she is very ill and cannot get out of bed. She tells Harry that she needs a new phone but her parents can’t know, then she opens up a web browser and, after much thought, searches for Spider-Man.

**I’ll come over with a phone later today** Harry texts back. Jazzy sucks in a breath.

**Not today maybe the weekend?**

**Whatever works better**

Jazzy sighs, returning to her search on Spider-Man. She finds a forum with a list of his supposed powers. She reads through the list and notices similarities almost immediately. Sticking to walls, super strength, webbing. Jazzy’s eyes look over at Stan.

“Oh my gods,” she mutters.

The door opens and Levina walks in. Jazzy turns around and watches as Levina looks up to the hole in the ceiling and then back down to her. She goes to her desk and grabs a textbook, shoving it in her bag. Levina doesn’t say anything, but Jazzy figures that she already knows. Whatever she did to Stan resulted in this.

A brief image flashes through Jazzy’s mind. She sees herself using her new found strength to tear Levina apart. But she shakes the image away, realizing that these powers could do her a lot of good. She just needs to get used to them. Hopefully not break her laptop in the process. Or anything else that is school property. She hears the door open and close as Levina leaves the room.

Jazzy returns her attention to her laptop as a normally quiet notification nearly blares in her ears. She clicks on the notification, noticing it has to do with Eddie Brock. It’s been a while since he’s been in the news.

_EDDIE BROCK RIGHT ABOUT LIFE FOUNDATION_

The headline reads. She quickly reads through the article and how the LIFE Foundation was in fact unethically and illegally experimenting on people. The article mentions how Carlton Drake died due to one of his rockets exploding and that Eddie Brock’s status as one of the best investigative journalists in the UTA has been restored.

“However, it is unclear whether Drake and the LIFE Foundation were involved with the murders caused by what people are now calling the Demon of San Francisco. Brock refused to comment on the Demon,” the article ends. Jazzy closes the tab, not entirely concerned with the Demon of San Francisco. It hasn’t been seen near campus, so it isn’t her problem.

Jazzy cautiously closes her laptop. She looks at the cuts in her hand, the blood a pale blue and already clotted. Her hand starts shaking. Jazzy closes her eyes and turns her palm away from her, setting her hand on the desk.


	10. Chapter 10

Jazzy goes out that night. She finds an unfinished skyscraper away from the main part of San Francisco. She pulls the hood of her sweater up to hide her face from anyone that might pass by. Placing a tentative hand on the structure, already healed from the glass shards, Jazzy takes a slow breath and wills herself to stick to the wall. When she tries pulling away her hand refuses to detach as before. She grins and puts her other hand on the wall as well. She pulls herself up, planting her feet covered in a thin, flexible white shoe on the wall too.

“This is crazy,” Jazzy mutters to herself. “All of this is crazy.”

Jazzy begins crawling up the wall; her right arm moving up with her left leg and vice versa. While she crawls all the way to the top she never needs to stop to catch her breath. Jazzy makes it to the highest steel beam of the skyscraper, limbs feeling stretched and adrenaline running through her veins. She smiles at the city’s glittering lights. Unsticking from the building was easier than the first time. It appears as though at least that power is controlled by will alone.

“I could get used to this,” she breathes. Jazzy looks down and wonders how she got to the top so quickly. It’s a long way down. She looks over to the nearest building, which is much too far away. Jumping to it seems terrifying and impossible. “You were bitten by a jumping spider. You probably won’t die.” Jazzy angles herself toward the other building. She jumps, though her fear causes her legs to seize before they fully extend. She soars through the air, but she starts falling before the building comes into arm’s distance. A scream rips out of her mouth as she falls. Jazzy swings back toward the unfinished skyscraper, almost knocking into one of the beams. She stops her crash with her hands and finds herself upside down.

Her breaths come in short puffs as she attempts to calm herself down. Jazzy moves her arm up the beam, bending her back until she’s able to reach the silken threads still attached to her ankles. After swinging her legs forward until her feet stick to the beam, Jazzy begins crawling up the thread. She makes it to the top of the skyscraper again, subconsciously hoisting the silk up and into her hand. Jazzy pops the web into her mouth before realizing what she’s doing.

“Why am I eating this?” she almost shouts, but doesn’t bother spitting out the silk. It already dissolved anyway. Jazzy shakes her head and stands up. She looks over to the building again. “I can do this. If I can’t, well I won’t die.” Jazzy turns around and walks down the steel beam, hoping that giving herself a running start will have a more successful outcome. Once she’s roughly at the beam’s midpoint, she turns around and begins running toward the edge.

Jazzy jumps and the building falls away from her. The air rushes over her face and through her hair, knocking her hood back. Jazzy gracefully lands on the building and drops into a roll. The silk threads--her anchor webs--detach from her ankles. Jazzy whoops and bounces on the balls of her feet. Each time she bounces she jumps as high as she used to.

“Oh, man,” Jazzy says, voice quivering with excitement. “What else can I do?”

Jazzy spends the rest of the night jumping from building to building, shouting at the top of her lungs and just enjoying herself. She finds an abandoned building with vines beginning to sneak up the walls and tests her strength by punching holes in the concrete. When she returns to her dorm she feels like she’s on Cloud 9. Jazzy passes out when her head hits the pillow.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With great power comes great responsibility

Over a week later Jazzy meets up with Jenny by the Jubilee Plaza planetarium. Jazzy arrives before Jenny for once, having super jumped her way over. She watches her exit the elevator, noticing that she appears to be dressed nicer than she usually is on their dates. Jenny’s wearing a beautiful cream colored dress with off-shoulder long sleeves. Her hair is styled and her make-up is perfect. Jazzy takes a second to wonder how she can see Jenny’s make-up from across the roof. Jenny’s trusted galaxy purse crosses her chest and she fidgets with something hidden inside of it.

“You look gorgeous,” Jazzy blurts out once Jenny is in hearing range. Jenny’s smile widens.

“Thank you, Jazzy. You do too,” Jenny replies with a kiss.

“Sorry for cancelling date night last week,” Jazzy says. “I was just incredibly sick.” She hates lying to Jenny, but she wants to tell her in a more private space.

Jenny waves off her apology. “It’s fine, I don’t want you to push yourself.”

They head inside and take their usual seats. The movies play, but Jazzy can’t seem to take her eyes off of Jenny tonight. It’s the first time Jazzy’s seen her since she got her powers, and it’s like she’s glowing. They leave the planetarium about an hour and a half later and Jazzy doesn’t even remember what the movies were about.

“You wanna go to the park?” Jenny asks.

“There’s a park near here?”

“Yeah, a couple blocks away. Apparently there’s little pumpkin shaped lights in the trees. Hopefully they haven’t been taken down, since Halloween was technically two days ago.”

“Let’s go,” Jazzy says. Jenny smiles and they get in the elevator.

Jenny leads the way to the park. The streets are quieter and the sidewalks emptier, but there’s still a constant buzz that only cities have. They walk for a mere ten minutes before the sidewalk turns to dirt and gravel and the buildings make way for tall trees laced with a soft orange glow. Jazzy peers closer at the orange lights, giggling when she sees the jack o’lantern faces etched upon them. Jenny takes Jazzy’s hand as they make their way deeper into the park. They reach a small clearing with several paths branching outward.

“I’ll be right back,” Jenny says. “I have a surprise.” She kisses Jazzy before heading down one of the paths to the right.

Jazzy stands in the middle of the clearing, waiting for Jenny to come back. She feels a tingling sensation at the base of her skull and she turns around, facing the path opposite the one Jenny took. A large, stocky man with a messy, dirty blond scruff bursts from the trees and comes barreling down the path. He skids to a halt in front of Jazzy.

“Out of the way,” he growls, pulling a knife from his pocket and pointing it at her. “Or I’ll make you.”

Jazzy steps aside. “Geez, no need to get violent.” The man runs past and down the path that Jenny took. Jazzy doesn’t think much of it until she hears both of them yelling. She takes off running down the path. The trees thin around her and she can see Jenny.

Jazzy halts, legs freezing beneath her. She watches, helpless, as the man shoves his knife deep under Jenny’s ribcage, twisting it before pulling it out and continuing to run. Jenny looks down in horror at her blood blossoming across her pale dress. Jazzy feels a sob build in her throat as she stumbles forward. Jenny falls to her knees clutching at the wound, tipping backwards. Jazzy rushes toward her, catching her as she falls.

_This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening,_ her mind screams at her.

“No, no,” Jazzy mutters, pressing her own hand against the bloodied fabric. “Jenny, hey, you’re gonna be okay. Please, please.”

“Jazzy,” Jenny whispers, voice hoarse. Jenny’s hand reaches toward her purse, shakily wiping her own blood off on the grass.

“Don’t move, don’t move,” Jazzy says, tears welling in her eyes.

Jenny doesn’t listen and reaches into her bag. She pulls out a small wooden box. “Meteorite, moldavite,” she murmurs. Jazzy takes it, the tears spilling over. Jenny’s breathing becomes shallower. "Explore the stars for me. I love...you." The light in her eyes dies and her body goes limp in Jazzy’s arms. Jazzy’s head drops forward and the tears come in gushing torrents. She grips the wooden box against her heart.

The sound of heavy footsteps comes toward her and soon several police officers are around her and Jenny. They’re speaking to her and each other, but the words don’t make sense. She starts screaming when they try taking her away from Jenny.

“Miss!” one of the officers keeps shouting. Jazzy looks up at him. “What’s your name?”

“Jazzy,” she sniffles.

“We need you to let go of her, can you do that?” Jazzy looks down at Jenny’s face. The sight of her lifeless eyes is almost too much. Jazzy closes her eyes and forces herself away from Jenny’s body. “Can you come with us?” Jazzy nods. The officer helps her stand up and leads her out of the park. The jack o’lantern lights seem to laugh at her, mock her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. She answers so many questions, repeats what she said so many times, and describes Jenny’s killer as best she can. She hears some of the officers talking on the phone with Jenny’s mother. The officers tell her that they’ll need to talk to her again within the next couple of days. Then she’s taken back to her dorm. The little wooden box remained clutched in her palm the entire time.

She sits down on her bed, Levina already asleep in hers. Jazzy opens her palm and looks down at the last thing Jenny gave her. Carefully, Jazzy opens the box with a shaking hand. Her tears start flowing anew, hand coming up to cover her mouth. Inside the box is a ring with a band of meteorite in tension style holding a roughly finished moldavite. Jazzy carefully takes the engagement ring out of the box and onto her left ring finger. It fits perfectly.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short

Jazzy misses another week of classes, knowing she won’t be able to focus. The police did question her again, and they gave her Jenny’s purse after they searched for fingerprints and DNA, which they didn’t find. Jazzy doesn’t really remember Jenny’s funeral. She went back home, tried saying something about her, but had to take a seat when the tears blocked out her words. Harry and Chey were there.

Levina gives her space when she comes back. Chey comes to visit her on the weekends. Harry comes whenever he can. She cannot stop dreaming about that night. At some point when she was gone the ceiling was fixed.

“It’s my fault,” Jazzy murmurs when Harry’s over. “I could’ve stopped him.”

“You didn’t know what was going to happen,” Harry says, sounding like he’s dealt with this type of comfort before. “It’s no one’s fault but his.”

“But I could’ve...I could’ve…” Jazzy shakes her head as tears spill onto her cheeks. She’s so tired of crying. “I want him dead.”

“He probably deserves it,” Harry replies. Jazzy looks up at him in surprise. “If you go after him, I’ll support you, but you gotta promise you’ll be careful.”

A fire sparks in Jazzy’s chest at Harry’s words. She knows what she has to do now. Jazzy goes to Levina and asks her if she can get her a police scanner. Levina agrees, not even questioning why, and Jazzy, in return, doesn’t question how she gets one. Jazzy looks through her small variety of clothes, taking the brown hoodie she wore the night after she was bitten, as well as the flexible white shoes. She grabs a pair of leggings with an iridescent waist band, the colors shifting from pink to teal. She even gets out of the dorm and makes a run to the Woomoot Supercenter to get a white spandex face mask. She cuts out eye holes in the mask. Then she knows she’s ready.


	13. Chapter 13

It takes about a day for anything to pop up on the police scanner that might even be remotely connected to Jenny’s killer. Jazzy had actually managed to get to her classes that day before changing into her makeshift suit. Once Jazzy has the location down, she climbs out her dorm window, checking around to make sure no one is watching before climbing to the roof. She slips her mask on over her head and bounds in the direction she’s headed.

She finds a man hiding in an alleyway and spots several cop cars in the distance. She drops down behind him, landing softly on her toes.

“Hey!” she shouts at him. The guy turns around, a knife in his hand. Jazzy briefly wonders if all the criminals she encounters will have knives.

“Who the hell are you?” he says, brows furrowing. He doesn’t wait for an answer. He thrusts his knife at Jazzy, but it feels like it happens in slow motion as the same tingling from that night prickles through her skull. Jazzy body rolls away from the knife, then dodges side to side as the man continues to thrust his knife. She can’t help but finish off what she realizes to be a dance move, lowering down and continuing to move side-to-side. The guy freezes, arm slowly dropping down to his side. His eyes glaze over and his gaze is fixed on Jazzy.

“Uh what?” Jazzy says. She straightens up and walks over to the guy. She waves her hand in front of his face, but he doesn’t move. Jazzy looks closer at his face and realizes that he isn’t Jenny’s killer. “Okay, well I guess you won’t die.” She hears the sirens getting closer, but she isn’t sure what to do. “Sit?” she says, starting to panic. The guy in front of her lowers himself to the ground and sits cross-legged. _Did I hypnotize him? What’s going on?_ She sees the flashing police lights on one of the walls. “Okay, uh, lay down and sleep until the police arrive.” The man does so and Jazzy kicks the knife out of his hand. She hears the screech of cars and decides it’s time to go.

Jazzy slips through her open dorm window, rips her mask off and lowers her hood. She sits down at her desk and wonders how she managed to hypnotize someone. Maybe it was due to her dancing.

“Did you get him?” Levina asks, shocking Jazzy out of her pensive state.

“Get who?”

“The guy that killed your girlfriend,” Levina states.

Jazzy opens her mouth, then slowly closes it. “I never told you that.”

“What? That you have, or had, a girlfriend? Or that she was killed? Or maybe you’re referring to going after her killer. You didn’t need to tell me, Jazlyn.”

All the worries that Jazzy had about Levina and had tried to push down come bubbling up to the surface. “No, I didn’t get him. Wrong guy.” Levina nods. “Though I think I figured something out. Can I try it on you?” Jazzy doesn’t see any harm in testing her possible hypnotization skills on her roommate. Levina already knows about her powers, there’s no way she doesn’t.

“Go for it,” Levina says with a knowing smirk. She turns her chair around and leans back, crossing her arms. Jazzy stands up and shifts awkwardly on her feet. “What are you waiting for? Just do it.” Levina’s words sound more like a challenge than encouragement. Her smug look fuels the rage beginning to heat up Jazzy’s core.

Jazzy performs a couple of quick dance moves and watches as Levina’s eyes soon glaze over. Her lids are heavy, drooping over her eyes. Jazzy waves her hand in front of her roommate’s eyes and is glad to see no reaction.

“Stand up,” Jazzy commands rather aggressively. Levina does so, swaying slightly. “Tell me what you did to my spider.”

“I injected it with small doses of a radioactive serum I made myself,” she mutters, voice monotonous. “With the intent that its DNA would change. Seeing the effects of it biting you was just a bonus.” Levina’s lips curl into a smirk though her eyes remain dead.

“Sit down. Wake up.” As soon as Levina sits back down in her chair, her eyes return to normal. “Well, I was right.”

“Hypnotization. Not bad,” Levina says. “I hope you find the guy.”

“Why?”

“I want to know if you have it in you to kill someone.” Levina turns her chair back toward her desk and starts jotting down notes in one of her thicker journals. Jazzy shakes her head, turning on the police scanner and staying up long into the night listening for anything.

Jazzy sleeps for about three fitful hours before getting out of bed, taking a quick shower, and listening to the police scanner again. She gets dressed in her outfit from last night again, hoping that she can find the killer during the weekend and still have time to catch up on her homework. When the scanner picks up a viable option, Jazzy quickly makes her way to the roof, quite glad that her dorm is located on the top floor.

Jazzy makes it to the heart of San Francisco in roughly a dozen bounds. She taps her thigh as she crouches on the edge of a roof, looking around for any sign of potentially unlawful activity. She spots some in an alleyway behind what may or may not be a roller disco. Jazzy jumps onto the roof of the disco and peers down into the dimly lit alley by the rising sun. Jazzy squints as a man with the same build as Jenny’s killer hands another person--much more frail--a bag of white powder. Jazzy quietly drops down into the shadows behind the man.

“Fifty units; cheap for the pure stuff if I do say,” the man mutters. The other person nods and swipes their wrist over his phone. A cheery beep confirms the transaction and the addict snatches the bag away. Jazzy prepares herself to attack the man, but as he turns around she can’t help but freeze. Her heart starts pounding so loud she can’t hear anything else and her blood feels like lava running under her skin.

_It’s him._

“Who the hell are you?!” the killer yells. The addict bolts out of the alley and down the street. Jazzy barely notices.

“You’re a murderer,” Jazzy growls. “And you’re going to feel my pain.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he states, backing away from Jazzy. She notices his hand move down toward his waist. Jazzy lunges forward and grabs his wrist, twisting his arm back and feeling a great surge of satisfaction as his bones crack. His knife drops from his hand. He screams and the sound is music to her ears. “What do you want?!”

“I want you gone,” Jazzy hisses. She swipes her leg under him, knocking him off his feet. A few more bags of white powder spill from his pockets. Jazzy twists his arm further behind his back, producing more screams and cracks. She feels his shoulder pop out of its socket. She picks up the killer’s fallen knife and presses the tip to his spine.

The memory of Jenny’s death passes across Jazzy’s mind, the knife and the blood flooding her eyes. The sound of sirens snaps the memory from her mind. She shakes her head and looks down at the man on the ground and the knife in her hand. The man is sobbing in pain and there’s blood seeping through his sleeve. She looks at the entrance to the alleyway and sees the sirens getting closer. She looks back down and all she can see is Jenny’s bloodied body. Jazzy jolts upward, knife still in hand. Jazzy looks down at her ungloved hands and knows she has to keep the knife, so she folds the switchblade down and shoves it into her jacket pocket. Jazzy jumps to the roof she was on moments before just as a couple of police officers enter the alley. She watches the police take the killer to their car before heading back to her dorm.


	14. Chapter 14

Jazzy tries to do her homework after class. She really, really does. She sits down at her desk, opens her laptop to the textbook chapter she needs to read, and sets a notebook beside her. But all she can focus on is the police scanner shoved under the corner of her bed beside the pile of her “vigilante” clothes, for lack of a better word. Jazzy sighs and tilts her chair back before standing and picking up her brown hoodie. She pulls out the knife she took earlier that week. Jazzy wonders if it’s the one he used to kill Jenny.

Jazzy stares at the two items in her hands, thinking about how if she had gloves, she wouldn’t have the knife. The jacket reminds her of her first night jumping across buildings and the rush that came with. Jazzy curses and throws the hoodie back on the pile and shoves the knife in her desk drawer. She settles down on her chair again, opening a new tab and looking up various videos about making a bodysuit.

After watching several videos on making clothes and Spider-Man masks, Jazzy calls Harry. Harry picks up after a few rings, sounding exhausted and frazzled.

“Hey?”

“Hi,” Jazzy replies. “Wanna go somewhere?”

“Please,” Harry sighs. “Where we going?”

“I need to buy fabric.”

Harry snorts. “Okay. Roasted Haven then?” Jazzy hums in agreement before hanging up. She grabs a white sweater from her wardrobe, slips on some sneakers, and stares at Jenny’s space purse set on her desk. Jazzy closes her eyes and twists her ring around before slinging the purse over her shoulder. She shoves her wallet and phone inside. Taking a deep breath, Jazzy leaves her dorm and calls a taxi to the café. The increased amount of time getting there almost makes Jazzy stir-crazy.

Swiping her card for payment of the cab, Jazzy jumps out onto the sidewalk and quickly makes it into the Roasted Haven. She does a quick scan of the café, finding Harry sitting in a corner table with a mug in his hand and another in front of him. Jazzy waves at the cashier before making her way to the corner.

“Hey,” she greets, sliding into her seat. She takes a sip of her still hot chai latte and hums in contentment. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Harry states. He looks outside with a blank stare and takes a long sip from his coffee. “No problem, no problem.”

“So, you know any good fabric stores?”

“No.” Harry takes another sip. “I don’t think so. But what do I know, what do I, I know?” Harry adds choppily. “I don’t know anything. I’m just, I’m a no-good, un-unwell, stupid fucking good-for-nothing. I, I’m bluffing chuffing shit.” Jazzy almost chokes on her drink. She slowly lowers her mug.

“Harry,” she says tentatively. “Are you okay?”

“I feel,” Harry mutters, shaking hand running through his hair. “I feel, um, feel like I can’t.” Harry waves his hand around his head and shuts his eyes. “Words aren’t coming out...right.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Do you, you understand, yeah? Understand?”

Jazzy blinks, processing his words. “Yeah, I got you.”

“Cool, cool,” Harry takes a deep breath, running his hand through his hair again. “Cool. So fabric. What for?”

“Uh, not entirely sure yet. All purpose sort of bodysuit type thing,” Jazzy tries to explain. She’s not sure if she wants to tell anyone about her powers. “I was thinking spandex though. Breathable, works for dancing.” Jazzy wants to ask more about Harry’s corrupted sentences, but she guesses that they’re both keeping secrets now.

Harry pulls out his phone. “Hey, KARI, locate best and closest fabric, uh, fabric store.” A woman’s holographic and too perfect face projects from his phone screen.

“Do I have that too?” Jazzy mutters, hand feeling her phone inside Jenny’s bag.

“No. Just Oscorp employees and me.”

“Nearest and best fabric store is located three blocks west and one block north of your location,” KARI responds. Harry grunts. He gestures to the door and chugs the rest of his coffee in one motion. Jazzy picks up her cup and the duo leave the café and make their way to the store.

They spend hours in the fabric store. They go through all the aisles, eventually finding the exact types of fabric Jazzy wants. She quickly finds white and black lycra, followed by a stretchy, teal knit. The other two fabrics take a while to find. Light to dark brown spandex and a beautiful teal to fuchsia sparkly iridescent lycra. Harry helps Jazzy find a few patterns she can use to create her suit. They grab a couple of rolls of thread--black and white--as well as black infusable ink pens and a variety of needles.

“A big project you got,” Harry states after he pays for everything, though Jazzy actually tried to stop him from doing so for once. “Big project.”

“Gotta keep myself busy when I’m neglecting homework,” Jazzy says, smirking. Harry’s lips twitch, though not much emotion passes across his face. _Not much has today,_ Jazzy notices. She shrugs her worries off.

“You, uh, food?” Harry stutters. “Sushi?”

“Flying Fish?”

“Sure.”

Once they walk the short distance to Flying Fish Sushi and settle into a booth, quickly grabbing some of the plates that pass by on the belt, Jazzy decides she’ll ask Harry some questions, though she isn’t sure he’ll respond to them.

She’ll start off easy. “What’s Peter like?”

Harry smiles, eyes lighting up in no way she’s seen before. “Oh, Peter. The best, the best, absolutely best.” Jazzy can tell his words still aren’t coming out as he would like, but he’s so happy that it doesn’t seem to matter at the moment. “We, we met when we were children, when we were three. He’s a nerd, dork, cute. Really into, into _Star Trek_.” Harry sighs. “Still, still friends. Yeah, we’re still friends. Talk all the time, call each day. He gets, he just, he really gets me. Pete gets me.” Harry rubs the back of his head rather sheepishly.

“How cute is he?” Jazzy wonders.

“Oh, very, very.” Harry reaches into his pocket and quickly swipes through his phone before finding a photo of a guy with wavy brown hair and chocolate eyes hidden behind thick glasses. There’s a small beauty mark under his left eye, half hidden by his glasses. He’s smiling in the picture, though he looks rather awkward.

“He is cute,” Jazzy agrees. Harry nods, flipping his phone screen back to him. His expression softens the slightest bit before he puts his phone away. She knows that look, and it makes her heart hurt. “He sounds like a great boyfriend.”

Harry chokes down a sushi roll and knocks himself into a coughing fit. “He’s not,” he says between coughs. “He’s not my boyfriend.” Harry massages his chest. “Why would you think that?” he says, borderline defensive. There’s a look of panic and hurt in his green eyes.

“Hey, didn’t mean anything bad by it. Just the way you talk about and look at him is all.”

“The way I, the way I look at...him,” Harry says slowly. “Like you, uh.” Harry’s eyes dart down to the table. “Like how you looked...looked at J-Jenny.” Jazzy knows its a statement, but she nods anyway, eyes turning downcast as well. They fall into a tense silence, eating and avoiding eye contact. “I do, uh,” Harry mutters, “I do like, like, really like Peter, though. I love...I love him.” Jazzy looks up at him, slowly chewing on salmon nigiri.

“So, you’re bi? Gay?” Jazzy asks, unsure what else to say.

“Gay,” Harry replies. “Full homo all the way baby!” The two fall into laughter and Jazzy is relieved when the tension fades. “Why’d you, why did you ask about Peter, Pete.”

“I don’t know. I kinda realized I don’t know a bunch about you,” Jazzy runs her hand over her ear and undercut. She makes a mental note to get it reshaved. “Just things I’ve picked up on.”

“You pick up on a lot. A lot, a lot.”

“Okay, but how come I’ve never picked up on your, uh, speech thingy.”

Harry’s face falls. “I do my best to, my best, uh, some days it’s worse, it’s...worse than others. I can go m-months with, without having issues.” Jazzy looks down at the table to see her friend’s hands shaking. “Things can sometimes...things can make it worse.” Harry picks up one of his chopsticks and twirls it in his fingers, staring at the tip.

“And the lack of emotion earlier?” Jazzy wonders. Harry’s brows furrow. “I mean, it doesn’t really bother me ‘cause sometimes I get like that too.”

The chopstick spins a couple more times before Harry responds. “I’m just having a rough day. Rough life.” Harry slides a plate into the slot and a prize comes rolling down to their table. Harry stares at it before a shiver runs through his body and he whips around in his seat. Jazzy stares, sushi roll halfway to her mouth and dripping soy sauce on the table. She shrugs and pops the roll in her mouth and the plate in the slot. Jazzy grabs the prize and places it on the table in-between them.

“You can ask me questions too,” Jazzy states. Harry looks at her, eyes distant. He shakes himself and smiles slightly.

“What’s with the tattoo?” Harry says.

Jazzy looks down at her right calf, visualizing the outline of a bull’s head, faceless but a few curls identifying the nostril. “I got it the day after my eighteenth birthday. My friend Taylor paid for it. He has one almost exactly like it on his right leg.”

“Does it have a specific meaning?”

“Nah, we just like cows. Plus, no initials since those are a curse.”

“Have any other tattoos? Or do you want any more?”

“Hell yeah I want more! And yeah, I got a triforce.” Jazzy pulls the sleeve up on her left arm, showing the triforce on her wrist. “I haven’t really decided on what else I want to get though.”

“Fair. Don’t know if I’d get any. Don’t know if I want to deal with the pain.” Harry grabs a passing plate and nearly finishes it off before his next question. “Ever find the guy?”

“Yeah, actually. Arrested. Apparently he was caught selling drugs.” Jazzy sighs. “I didn’t kill him. You ever think about murder?”

Harry laughs. “All the time. I know you do too.”

“We’re just those types of people, huh?”

Harry’s phone pings. He takes his phone out again and swipes at the screen. A grimace crosses his face as his eyebrows pull together. “My fucking dad,” Harry hisses. “I gotta, gotta go. Don’t get jumped by anybody.” Harry stands, swiping his Unit Card on the screen next to them.

“Don’t die,” Jazzy mutters before Harry rushes out of the restaurant. She looks down forlornly at the last sesame ball before popping it into her mouth and grabbing her purse. Jazzy leaves Flying Fish Sushi and takes a leisurely walk back to her dorm.


	15. Chapter 15

Jazzy stares at the multitude of fabrics spread out before her alongside her white spandex mask and a few other materials. She rubs her forehead as she looks at the pattern in her hands. _Where to start?_ Jazzy sighs and begins laying the patterns over the fabric and cutting each piece out. Every once in awhile she’ll look over at the materials she bought for the eyes of her mask. That task feels the most daunting to her. Her laptop is open, bright screen beaming down at her from her desk. There’s a tutorial on how to make working Spider-Man eyes on it. Jazzy knows Levina’s eyes are on her, but she just focuses on her task.

Once every piece of fabric is cut out and the black pieces are sewn on in strips, Jazzy gets to drawing scarce web patterns with her infusable ink pen. She draws on the white areas separated by black, the inside of what is to be her hood, as well as along her iridescent belt of sorts. Jazzy groans as she arches her back; there’s a lot of sewing to be done. She gets to work.

Jazzy finds herself in the corner of the room, feet sticking to the walls as she sews upside-down. She doesn’t sleep that night, a sudden determination forcing her to finish her suit. Jazzy sews faster than she thought possible with perfect stitches despite not being the best at hand stitching. Occasionally she’ll flip onto the floor and try pieces of the suit on. They all fit perfectly, and if Jazzy wasn’t running on minimal sleep, she’d be confused on how she’s managing all of this. In no time, her suit is complete, save for the mask. She stretches, reaching for the materials for the eyes, but she finds them missing. A wave of panic washes over her as she flips onto the ground and looks around the room.

“What are you looking for?”

Jazzy jumps. She hadn’t realized that Levina was still awake. “Uh, eyes.”

Levina nods and holds up two identical and mechanical eyes so similar to the ones on Spider-Man’s mask. “I made them for you, added a little flair to your mask too.” Levina picks up the mask and shows her. Wider holes for her eyes with teal paint running down from them like tears. “Let me put it together.”

“Thank...you,” Jazzy mumbles, unsure. She stares as Levina finishes off her mask, not sure what to make of her roommate. Levina tosses the finished product to her and Jazzy catches it from the air with no thought involved.

“Put it on.”

Jazzy does. The eyes are in the perfect spot and somehow focus her vision. She looks in the mirror attached to their door and can’t help but smile. Jazzy quickly dresses into her finished suit and looks at the whole outfit put together. She feels kind of ridiculous, but she loves it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to see how her suit looks you can go to aremseh1236.deviantart.com


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever just call yourself out when you're writing? Because I did that

There’s a slight breeze wrapping around Jazzy’s body as she stands atop a skyscraper, looking down at the streets of San Francisco. The breeze causes a chill to run through her body, inadvertently causing her to shiver. She can’t seem to warm herself up, but she chalks that up to her new suit. A few people spot her from the street, shouting indiscernibly and pointing up at her. Jazzy closes her eyes and breathes in the cool air.

_First patrol. I can do this._

Jazzy opens her eyes and runs toward the edge of the building, pushing herself off the edge and soaring across the street. She hears more shouts, some of surprise, others of alarm. Jazzy pays them no mind, focusing instead on finding a source of danger. Every few rooftops Jazzy pauses and closes her eyes, opening her ears to her surroundings before eventually scanning them as well.

It takes her awhile to find anything. Close to an hour of jumping from building to building before she finally hears distress; gunfire. Jazzy bounds toward the sound, finding its origin to be a rather large bank.

_This is so cliché,_ Jazzy thinks, rolling her eyes. _Why are there even banks still? For gold bars?_ She jumps to the roof of the bank and crawls down one of the walls before peering through one of the many windows. There are two--most likely three--men with masks covering their faces holding guns. She counts about two dozen hostages. Jazzy breathes a sigh of relief when she sees that none of the hostages are injured or dead.

“I gotta get rid of those guns,” Jazzy mutters to herself. “Maybe if I can, I dunno, sneak in? Perform a little dance for them?”

She runs a hand under her hood, the feeling of smooth spandex on spandex a strange sensation. Jazzy pushes on the window, pleased to find that it opens quietly. She easily crawls onto the ceiling, praying that the robbers don’t look up. But why would they? Jazzy lowers her body off the ceiling until she’s hanging by her fingertips. Looking below her, she waits until one of the masked men walks directly under her. She drops. The man collapses under her weight. She checks to see if he’s still breathing, which he is, before her skull starts ringing and her body begins to move of its own accord. It takes several seconds for Jazzy’s brain to catch up with her body. Gunshots echo around the bank lobby, bullet holes in the wall and floor behind her. Some of the hostages scream.

“Get out here, we have company!” the man that shot at her yells toward the back of the building. Jazzy crouches down, easily falling into a low squat with one arm balancing her on the ground and the other raised next to her head. Another man comes running out from the back.

“What the hell? Who are you?”

“Doesn’t matter. Who are you guys? Why you stealing from a _bank_ of all places?”

Both of the men answer by lifting their guns and taking several more shots at her. Jazzy dodges them as before, slowly making her way closer to them as she does. It doesn’t take long for Jazzy to disarm and incapacitate the two robbers. A few pulled punches do the trick and soon they are both unconscious next to the third masked man. Jazzy carefully moves the guns into a pile away from the men.

Jazzy nearly leaves but is stopped by a tingling in her skull that she now believes warns her of danger. She hops to the side, spinning in the air and watches as a fourth robber’s fist barely misses her head. Jazzy blocks the next couple of punches before backing away. She does a quick shimmying dance move and the robber freezes. Jazzy notices the rather dead look on all the hostages faces as well.

“All hostages, wake up,” she speaks clearly. A murmur runs through them and she walks over to the masked man. “Sleep.” He falls to the floor and quickly starts snoring.

The sound of cheering causes her to look up at the hostages, all getting up from the floor. She smiles, knowing no one can see it under the mask, and shyly waves at them. Jazzy glances between the window she entered from and the three men on the floor.

“What’s your name?” one of the hostages ask. Jazzy opens her mouth, about to introduce herself as she normally does.

“Oh, uh,” she shrugs helplessly before jumping out the window.

Jazzy grins, mentally patting herself on the back as she leaps through the city, searching out anymore crimes, no matter how small. She manages to stop a mugging, a purse thief, an assault of some kind, as well as several other illegal activities before returning to her dorm and stripping out of her suit. Jazzy leans back in her chair with a robe snug against her body and lets out a contented sigh.


	17. Chapter 17

The sun is just peeking over the horizon when Jazzy wakes up the next day. She stretches her hands over her head and arches her back before dropping down to her desk and opening her laptop. She works quickly on her homework--a couple of essays and some textbook reading--before a notification pops up in the corner of her screen. She clicks on it, pleasantly surprised to find an article written by none other than Eddie Brock.

_DANCING SPIDER: ANOTHER DEMON OR A SAVIOR?_

Underneath the title is nothing other than a picture of herself in the midst of dodging bullets. She reads the caption under the photo and sees that it was taken by someone named Imogen Ipswitch-Irving.

Jazzy reads the article, unable to keep the smile from her face that she garnered the attention of Eddie Brock. Although, a hint of worry bothers the back of her mind. She knows that she’ll have to work extra hard at hiding her identity from someone so renowned as Brock is for exposing people. She’s glad that he paints her in a positive, accurate light, unlike J. Jonah Jameson with Spider-Man. And she must admit, she likes the name that’s been given to her. Dancing Spider. The simple name somehow fills Jazzy with a soothing warmth, but not as whole as the one Jenny would give her. Jazzy tries to push away the sadness that comes with the feeling; she just wants to bask in this moment.

“While it is still unclear whether Dancing Spider is friend or foe,” the article reads, “the general public is welcoming the enhanced individual into our city with open arms.”  
Jazzy cannot help the grin that comes across her face as she finishes reading the article. A new name, so much love, Maybe I’ve actually got a shot as this hero thing. Jazzy exits out of the tab and continues on her homework. I’ll go out again tonight.


	18. Chapter 18

As December hits San Francisco, Jazzy is grateful that though the weather does grow colder, it is not nearly the amount that it does in her hometown. Jazzy finds it harder to stay warm unless she’s bundled in layers or partaking in some form of physical exertion.

Jazzy sighs, shivering as she sits across from an art museum. She’s not sure why, but something about the museum drew her to it, despite not particularly liking art museums. The cold nearly makes her leave after nearly half an hour of remaining perched over the city and staring at the art museum. Jazzy stands just as she sees a shadow swooce right in through the roof. Quietly, Jazzy makes the rather short bound onto the museum roof and slips in through a skylight on the roof, already open. She crawls along the ceiling peering down into the exhibit. There are amazing pieces of jewelry locked away in glass displays, most made of what Jazzy believes to be jade. She sees silk tapestries in thin glass displays along the walls and expertly crafted vases.

_A Japanese art exhibit? Looks like it._ Jazzy shakes her head. _Find the intruder, appreciate later._

Jazzy crawls on the ceiling until she spots a dark figure standing over a thick banded jade bracelet with what Jazzy believes are cravings of dragons and cats upon it. An interesting choice to put those two animals together, but Jazzy is not focused on such a trivial thing. The intruder’s hand reaches into the display case.

“Hey!” Jazzy shouts. The burglar looks up and smiles coyly. Jazzy can see her piercing green eyes and almost glowing white hair pulled elegantly into a bun even in the dim lighting. Despite her pale skin, the color of her hair does not wash her out, but rather amplifies everything about her. The burglar is wearing an all black suit with dark metallic silver designs curling around it and making the suit shimmer. A trail of black creates the illusion of a tail. Jazzy assumes it’s merely a belt. There are silver chopsticks in her bun and black cat ears on her head connecting down to the mask hiding the upper portion of her face. Jazzy notices something glinting in the moonlight on the top of the burglar’s hands and feet.

She nearly falls off the ceiling as her breath catches in her chest. _Oh, wow._

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” she says, slowly pulling her hand from the glass case. “The Dancing Spider.” Jazzy tries to respond. She really does. “Cat got your tongue?”

“How…” Jazzy swallows roughly. “How’d you get past the security measures?”

“I have my ways. I could teach you, and then you could come and get me.”

“Who are you?”

“You can call me Black Cat, Kuro Neko, or maybe just Cat, if I allow it,” she says, lifting her hand and looking at her hidden nails. “Aren’t you going to come down and get me? I disabled the main alarms.”

“You...want me to?”

“I want you to try.” Her voice is as smooth as velvet, and how can Jazzy say no? She is a thief after all, and Jazzy followed her to stop her. “I only bite a little.”

Jazzy drops down, landing on her toes and gently yanking on the thin strands of silk trailing from her ankles. She shoves the webbing under her mask and into her mouth before she treads closer to Black Cat. A clicking noise echoes around them, coming from the burglar tapping her fingers against the glass. Jazzy realizes the glinting part of her hands and feet are metal claws.

“If you just leave we won’t have to fight,” Jazzy states. “I technically broke in too. Just don’t steal anything.” Black Cat smiles, continuing to click her claws. “Please?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” She straightens up, swaying toward Jazzy.

Jazzy feels her mouth go dry. Black Cat appears to be in her natural element, so relaxed, almost as though she were merely walking down the street. Jazzy can’t help but feel like she’s about to lose whatever fight they’re about to have. The Cat grabs her tail, twirling it in circles at her side. Jazzy sees that the tail is indeed attached to a belt with multiple pouches. She thinks that it might be a whip. Jazzy remains very still as she approaches, breath seemingly stopping.  
Black Cat drops her tail. She lunges at Jazzy with a grin upon her face; her sharp, fang-like canines glinting. Jazzy slides to the side, crouching down in what has become her fighting pose.

“I made the first move,” she murmurs. “Now come and get me!” Cat springs toward Jazzy again, but when Jazzy makes to move out of her way, her tail whip wraps around her ankle and slams her to the floor.

“Shit!” Jazzy hisses. “Is a bracelet really worth all this trouble?”

The whip uncurls from around her. “No, but the fun is.”

Jazzy gets up on her feet, scanning her surroundings. “This is fun to you? Fighting?” She dodges a second flick of the whip, sticking to the wall beside the open display case.

“Isn’t it for you? Why else would you be out every night?”

“To help people.” Jazzy pushes herself off the wall and manages to tackle Black Cat to the ground. She straddles her, preventing her from getting up.

“This isn’t helping anyone. Well, at least it wasn’t,” the Cat nearly purrs. Jazzy feels her cheeks heat up and is suddenly very glad that she’s wearing a mask. “C’mon, Dancer, show me what you got.” There’s a hand on her knee and cool, metallic claws resting on her calf. An invitation or a warning, Jazzy’s not sure which. Yet she finds herself leaning closer to the burglar, almost as though there were a magnetic field about her.

She squirms under Jazzy, causing fire to shoot up the spider’s body. Jazzy leaps up, Black Cat’s claws scratching down her leg as she does. She ignores the pain, focused more on the heat coursing through her and the Cat gracefully flipping onto her feet. Her breathing comes in deep huffs with her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

Jazzy shakes her head. _I should not be thinking about this. Stop it, stop it, she’s a criminal. She’s a stranger. She’s not Jenny._

“Done so soon?” Cat purrs teasingly. She side steps until she is in front of the open display case once more. Jazzy mirrors her movements, careful to keep the distance between them. “Did I scare you off? But we were having so much fun.” Jazzy can’t seem to get any words out. “Well, until next time Dancer,” she murmurs, making her way back to the skylight and pulling herself up on her tail.

Jazzy’s breathing levels out. She hangs her head and sighs. When she looks up, however, she notices that the damn jade bracelet that started this all is no longer in its case.

“Dammit!” Jazzy shouts, leaping out of the skylight. She looks around to the other roofs and down into the streets and alleyways, but the Black Cat is nowhere to be found.


	19. Chapter 19

Jazzy awakes the next day to her phone buzzing incessantly beside her. She groans and twists over, a slight twinge of pain rushing through her leg. She peeks under her covers and only sees red claw marks where her skin was torn open merely a few hours ago.

_Thank the gods for healing factors._

Her phone continues to buzz and she picks it up. Harry’s face smiles back, his burned hand flipping the finger at her. She answers and puts him on speaker.

“Whaddup?” she greets, eyes closing again.

“I wake you? Sorry, m’bad.”

“It’s good.”

“Okay, cool,” Harry replies. “I was thinking you could join me for a makeover.”

“I don’t need a makeover,” Jazzy mumbles.

Harry laughs. “Not you, me. I just want your company and advice is all. And I want you to meet Felicia.”

“Why a makeover? You already look amazing.”

“Yeah, but I look too much like my dad. I hate it. And I want something pierced.”

Jazzy nods but knows he can’t see it. “Pick me up? I gotta get dressed.” Harry hums in agreement.

“Better get dressed quick, already on my way.”

Stretching and swinging herself out of bed, Jazzy quickly gets ready. She bundles herself in layers and laces up her knee-high boots. Jazzy pops a pain killer in her mouth and downs it with a large gulp of water. She heads out of her dorm and down the six flights of stairs. Harry is already waiting and Jazzy nearly runs into him.

“You weren’t joking,” Jazzy states. Harry grins down at her. “Uh, what first?”

“You meet Felicia.” Harry turns around and leads Jazzy back to his self-driving car. Limo is a more accurate term. Jazzy steps inside, already used to this aspect of Harry’s life, and is greeted with the sight of who Jazzy assumes to be Felicia.

The white haired girl raises her hand and wiggles her fingers, a soft smile across her face like she knows something Jazzy doesn’t. Her eyes are a soft chocolate brown twinkling with excitement. Felicia wears a faux black leather coat with white fur around the collar with matching black boots. Under her jacket is a rather comfortable looking pair of pants and a simple shirt, yet the ensemble manages to show off her amazing figure. There’s a diamond necklace resting against her breasts and several silver rings on her fingers. There’s a familiar magnetic pull about her and her painted red lips.

“Hey, Jazzy, right?” Felicia greets. Jazzy nods, something about her causing her tongue to seize up. “I’m Felicia.”

“P-pleasure,” Jazzy stutters, internally berating herself. Harry claps Jazzy on the back and essentially pushes her into the car, quickly following and closing the door.

“The pleasure’s mine. Harry didn’t tell me how gorgeous you are,” Felicia says with half hooded eyes. Harry snorts. Jazzy’s face heats up and she averts her eyes, unsure how to respond.

“Tone down the flirting, Fia,” Harry says, relaxing into his seat. “She’s not looking for a relationship right now.” Jazzy nudges Harry slightly and gives him a smile. “Alright KARI, take us to Jubilee Plaza.”

“Of course, sir, Jubilee Plaza,” the AI responds from the driver’s seat of the car.

“A makeover, huh?”

“My idea,” Felicia states. “I think he should dye his hair red, don’t you?”

Jazzy stares at Harry for a while, trying to imagine what he’d look like. “Why red?”

“Apparently Peter likes redheads.”

Harry’s face turns red and Jazzy finds that it helps her imagine him with red hair. “I’m not doing this for Peter,” Harry mumbles. “But red does sound good.”

Jazzy finds it difficult to keep her eyes off of Felicia throughout the duration of their car ride. There’s something about her that makes it feel like they’ve met before, but Jazzy can’t put a finger on it. She doesn’t even know where they would have met.

_I would’ve remembered meeting someone this beautiful._

They arrive at Jubilee Plaza and Jazzy doesn’t even know if Harry and Felicia were talking. She shakes herself as they exit the car and make their way to a hair salon inside the mall court. Lorelei’s Salon. Felicia leads the way, walking up to the reception desk like she owns the place.

“Miss Haruno!” the young man at the desk greets, overly chipper. “How may I help you today?”

“My friend Harry here is going to dye his hair red,” Felicia responds, gesturing vaguely behind her. “Would you like anything Jazzy?”

“Oh, no I’m good,” Jazzy says.

“And anything for you Miss Haruno?”

“No, just Harry. And he’s paying.”

“I’ll also probably get a haircut while I’m here,” Harry mentions. “Full treatment maybe?”

“Whatever you would like Mister Osborn.” Harry flinches. “Follow me.” Harry and Felicia follow him with Jazzy lingering slightly behind the group. They’re led to an empty seat, which Harry sits down in. Felicia leans against the wall by the sink and mirror. She beckons for Jazzy to come over, so she does and leans beside her. The young man leaves with a brief farewell and heads back to the front desk. Jazzy shrugs her coat off and ties it around her waist.

Harry spins the chair and leans his head back into the sink. “Red, huh? I don’t think my dad likes that color.”

“You don’t like him?” Jazzy wonders. Harry’s brows pull together. “Your dad.”

“Why would I like him?” Harry sighs, closing his eyes. Jazzy opens her mouth to say more but the hairdresser comes over and turns the sink on. “Hey Misty.”

“Hi Harry,” she greets. “Shampoo, conditioner, cut, and did I hear dye?”

“Mhmm, red hair, all the way to the roots.” Misty begins lathering up Harry’s hair with shampoo that smells like blackberries and black pepper.

“And how do you want it cut?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Harry says. “Yanno, I’m going crazy. Let’s just, like a mohawk but it’s a smooth fade.”

“Slightly shorter in the back?”

“Than up top? Yeah.”

Misty turns the faucet on again, rinsing out the suds in Harry’s hair. Then she lathers in conditioner of the same scent. Jazzy looks over at Felicia to find her staring back. Jazzy realizing that Felicia is only taller than herself because of her heeled boots.

“What?” Jazzy says in a rather clipped manner.

“You’re fascinating,” Felicia replies.

“Maybe it’s because I’m not rich,” Jazzy jokes. Felicia laughs, a sound like the waves of the Bay washing over her.

“I wasn’t always rich,” Felicia confides. “But my otousan wanted me to live a life of luxury.” Their conversation is broken by the sound of water rinsing out the conditioner in Harry’s hair. “I suppose he wanted to live a life of luxury too,” Felicia chuckles.

“Otousan?” Jazzy asks.

“Father. I forget that not everyone speaks Japanese.”

“Does Harry?”

“He does.” Felicia turns, resting her shoulder against the wall and looking at Jazzy. “How’d you meet him?”

“Harry just came up to me on a trolley and, uh, yeah,” Jazzy mutters. “You?”

“Rich person gala. Moved here from Japan, within a week my otousan got us invitations and Harry was there.”

They fall into an amicable silence and return their attention to Harry, who is now getting his haircut. He appears to be in total bliss as Misty takes a razor and slowly shaves away the sides. In what feels like no time, Harry’s hair is shorter, cleaner, and much redder. He beams as he sees himself in the mirror.

“This is exactly what I needed,” he declares. He runs his hand along the side of his head and up to the crown. “This is amazing, thank you so much Misty.”

“My pleasure,” Misty says with a smile. “Red suits you.”

He turns to Jazzy and Felicia. “What do you guys think?”

“You look more like you, somehow,” Jazzy states. Harry’s grin somehow widens.

“Subarashii,” Felicia says.

Harry rises from the chair and leads the way to the front desk, where he quickly pays. Harry hums, tapping his chin as they walk around the floor. He hums every once in awhile before turning toward the escalator. They head down to the second floor and food court.

“Weren’t you getting piercings?” Jazzy wonders.

Harry nods. “Food first. I want a tongue piercing and I haven’t had breakfast,” Harry explains. “And,” Harry adds, dragging out the ‘a’, “some lip piercings too.”

“Have you thought about this, Harry?” Felicia quietly asks. Harry glances at her, but doesn’t answer. “Alright, pizza?”

Jazzy feels like she’s been hit over the head with a brick, which she unfortunately knows exactly what that feels like now. “You eat pizza?”

Felicia laughs, her teeth glinting. “Why wouldn’t I eat pizza?”

“You just, um, seem too, I don’t know, classy? For that?” Jazzy tries to explain. Her eyes catch on Felicia’s teeth again; her canines are long and sharp and seem to be glittering. “Are your teeth sparkling?”

“Yeah, I have crystals on my teeth, and they’re capped,” Felicia states as the three of them join the queue for one of the many pizza places. “Essentially I have sparkly fangs.”

Jazzy remembers how Black Cat lunged at her with glittering fangs bared and silver hair glowing in the moonlight. She shakes her head, _There’s no way that they’re the same person._ Yet she cannot help but notice the similarities between them.

“Good,” Harry says. “My San Fran friends like each other. I think. Pay for food, Fia?”

“Of course I will, Harry.”

“Gimme that good, good pineapple pizza,” Jazzy says, stomach growling as the smell of the delicious, greasy treat wafts toward them. Harry rolls his eyes, but makes no other comment.

The line moves quickly and the trio soon have a couple of slices of pizza each. They find an empty table and sit down. Jazzy practically inhales a slice before any of them say anything. Harry doesn’t touch his pizza in the few seconds it takes Jazzy to finish her first; he merely watches instead.

“Lip piercings?” Jazzy asks, though it sounds more like a statement. “Snake bites or…? I don’t know what else there is actually.”

“Spider bites. That and the tongue piercings are the only ones I actually have planned,” Harry laughs. “Fuck, maybe I should just get a tattoo too.”

“Can’t do that Harry,” Felicia cuts in. “You aren’t eighteen yet.”

“Maybe next month then,” Harry shrugs, unfazed.

Felicia finishes first, washing down her pizza with water. She pulls out a pocket mirror and reapplies her lipstick. Jazzy hums as she leisurely finishes her pizza. She can see Harry’s hands starting to shake. Harry downs the rest of his Soda-Cola and half a water bottle before getting up and throwing his plate in the compost bin. Jazzy and Felicia follow suit and then they head back to what Jazzy has deemed the beauty floor. They enter one of the piercing and tattoo shops. Jazzy takes a swig from her water bottle.

“Hi, welcome!” the girl sitting at the desk says, glancing in their direction before turning back to what she was doing. “I’ll be with you in a sec.”

They walk over to the desk and Harry stares at the piercing chart. Jazzy leans over the desk and studies the chart with him. Felicia sits down on the pleather couch and focuses on the television playing a rerun of some comedy show. The girl comes over, crosses her arms on the desk and leans on them.

“What can I do for you today?” she asks.

“Piercings,” Harry replies, eyes still on the chart. The girl hums. “I was thinking a midline tongue and some snakebites. Uh, let’s go with lobe piercings too.”

Jazzy lightly smacks Harry and places a finger on the chart. “Eyebrow piercings.” Jazzy moves her hand away from the wall, and the chart sticks to her finger and comes off the wall with it. “Oh shit,” she blurts, shaking her hand vigorously. “Oh my gods, I am so sorry.” Jazzy looks at the lady behind the desk then over to Harry. They both appear to be stifling laughs. Jazzy stills her hand and closes her eyes. The paper flutters to the ground as she exhales a sigh. She crouches down and picks the paper up, setting it on the desk. “My bad.”

“I’ll get some eyebrow piercings sure,” Harry chuckles. “One vertical, one horizontal? Right brow?”

“We can do that. I’ll need to see ID and I need you to fill out this form.” Harry is handed a waiver and a pen. He takes out his wallet and hands over his ID before completing the form. “Anything for you?”

“Me?” Jazzy says, pointing to herself. The girl nods. “Oh uh.” Jazzy looks down at the piercing chart and over at Harry who is taking his ID back. “Can I get the same tongue piercing as him?” From her peripheral vision she sees Felicia whip her head toward them.

“Of course! Let me get you a form too.”

Jazzy gives an aborted nod and digs out her ID. She glances at Harry and finds him looking down at her with a surprised smile upon his face. She smiles back and quickly signs her name at the bottom of the paper.

“Okay, wait on the couch and I’ll have someone come and get you.” She hands Jazzy her ID back.

Harry and Jazzy settle into the couch next to Felicia. It is incredibly plush; Jazzy feels like she could sink right to the floor. She stares mindlessly at the television, zoning out and wondering what she just decided.

“Of all the impulsive decision, getting a piercing is pretty intense,” Jazzy mumbles, mostly to herself. “Not as bad as a tattoo I guess.”

“But it’s not all bad,” Harry cuts in. “At least you aren’t paying.”

“I probably could though.”

Harry waves away Jazzy’s suggestion. A stocky man with heavily tattooed arms comes around the corner. He glances over the trio though there’s no judgement in his eyes.

“Harry and Jazzy? I’m Ace,” he says with a rather gruff voice. The two stand from the couch. “Okay, follow me. I’ll pierce your tongue first Jazzy.”

“I’ll be waiting right here,” Felicia says, waving them off.

Harry and Jazzy follow Ace into one of the tattooing rooms. There’s a metal mobile cart with various tools in sealed plastic bags laying on top. There’s a cushioned chair almost centered in the room, which Ace gestures to. Harry nudges Jazzy toward the chair, and she sits down in it. She’s handed a mouthwash, then her tongue is marked and pierced. It doesn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, then again, her pain tolerance has increased dramatically since the spider bite. She stands from the chair and looks in a long mirror hanging on the wall.

“Oh wow, this looks great,” Jazzy mutters. “Thank you, Ace!”

“No problem.” Ace rifles through a cabinet before pulling out the same tools he used on Jazzy. “Your turn Harry,” he says with a mischievous grin.

Harry grins right back and sets himself in the chair while maintaining eye contact with the piercer. “Hit me! Or should I say pierce me?” Jazzy snorts, but continues admiring her new piercing.

“Which one do you want first?”

“Uh, lobe piercings are least painful I guess? Let’s go with that? Then, I think the lip and tongue, end with eyebrow.”

“Sounds good,” Ace states. “Lobes will be quick, rinse your mouth while I pierce them.” Harry is handed a small cup identical to the one Jazzy received. Harry swishes the liquid in his mouth as Ace pierces Harry’s ears. Jazzy leans against the wall next to the mirror, rolling her tongue around her mouth. She watches as Harry receives his other piercings, not flinching.

“Thanks, man,” Harry says once he looks in the mirror at his completely new appearance. Ace nods and the two head out of the room and back to the couch where Felicia is still waiting, remote in one perfectly manicured hand.

“I made a great decision with the brows,” Jazzy states, eyes continuously sweeping over Harry’s face. “You look really good.”

Felicia looks over at the sound of her voice. A soft smile breaks out over her face. “Whoa.” She stands up and rises to her toes, peering closely at Harry. “Tongue?” Harry sticks his tongue out, moving the muscle up and down. “Seriously, whoa. You look fantastic!” Felicia looks over at Jazzy, lowering her body. “And you?” Jazzy sticks her tongue out with a wink. Felicia gives her an ecstatic thumbs-up.

“Is it time to surprise my dad?” Harry says. His hand twitches by his side.

“Only if he’s home,” Jazzy mentions. Harry nods. “Can I ask you something first?”

“Sure, shoot.”

“Uh.” Jazzy’s eyes flitter somewhere on the ceiling. “You think I could stay with one of you guys over winter break?”

“Otousan doesn’t like having guests over,” Felicia states, shrugging.

“I’d have to ask my dad, but I’m down,” Harry replies. “He’d want to meet you before making any decisions though, so come over?”

Jazzy taps her thigh. “And meet Norman?” Harry nods. “I guess sooner or later I’ll have to.” Jazzy’s fingers quicken their pace. “I’ll come over.”

Harry grins. “Cool, cool. Fia?”

“No, I gotta get ready for a party.” Felicia stands on her toes again and presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “See ya later. You too, megami.” She directs the last part at Jazzy. The way she says the last word makes Jazzy feel like she’s being placed on a pedestal where only the most precious of all things belong.

“Bye,” Jazzy breathes as Felicia leaves the shop. Harry waves.

“Yanno,” Harry says after a few moments, “we could’ve just left with her.”

“Tch, only smart people would do that,” Jazzy laughs. “I take my nickname of Dumbass McGee very seriously.”

Harry snorts. “Who gave you that nickname?”

“Some high school friends,” Jazzy responds rather vaguely as she heads out the tattoo and piercing shop. “To the Osborn penthouse?”

“To the penthouse.”


	20. Chapter 20

The elevator doors open with a cheerful ding! And Harry and Jazzy step out into the short hallway leading to the Osborn penthouse.

_I’m gonna puke._

Harry opens the door and steps aside for Jazzy to enter first. She does, despite her nerves that come up each time she comes here. But this time it seems a thousand times worse because she knows that she’s meeting Norman Osborn today.

“You’ll be fine,” Harry reassures her. “He’s intimidating, so I’ve heard, but it isn’t like he’s going to force us to stop hanging out.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jazzy replies while dissociating. She forces herself to take a deep breath. _I am stronger than him, I shouldn’t be scared._ But her thoughts do nothing to calm her nerves.

“Dad?” Harry calls out rather tentatively.

“At my desk, son,” the voice of Norman Osborn responds.

Harry kicks off his shoes with Jazzy following suit. He steps out of the entranceway and turns to the left. “I brought a friend over.”

“Felicia?”

“No, you haven’t met her yet.” Harry begins walking toward the sound of his father’s voice. He gestures for Jazzy to follow him.

Jazzy turns the corner and sees Norman sitting at an ornately carved desk with a laptop open in front of him. He is wearing a perfectly tailored, bottle green suit with the jacket slung across the back of his high-backed roller chair and his tie undone around his neck. His hair is a dark auburn, about a shade lighter and redder than Harry’s was earlier that day. As he looks up and they get closer, Jazzy can clearly see that Norman’s nose is long and hooked and his eyes are just as green as Harry’s. Norman stands from his chair and Jazzy’s shoulders tense. Harry slings an arm around her back and lightly squeezes her shoulder. Norman towers over her and walks toward them with a confidence so intense that it almost forces Jazzy to feel bad about herself. He radiates an energy of power.

He stops in front of them, holding out a hand. “Norman Osborn, and you are?” His eyes are cold.

“Jazlyn Joyce,” she responds, voice raspier than usual. Jazzy takes his hand and gives it a firm shake. She feels like she’s sinking under his gaze. Jazzy is barely aware of how shallow and quick her breathing has become. Norman lets go of her hand and she nearly yanks it back to her side.

“Why are you here?”

“I, uh.” Jazzy swallows roughly. “I was wondering, if it wasn’t too much trouble for you, if I could stay here over winter break, sir.”

“Her?” Norman says, turning to Harry. Jazzy feels Harry’s arm tense around her shoulders. She looks up at him and notes his tightened jaw and fidgeting eyes. Norman scans his son’s newly pierced face and bright red hair with the coolness of someone observing a rock. His face scrunches up in a mixture of disapproval and disgust. Jazzy doesn’t fully understand what Norman means by his question.

“We aren’t dating,” Harry mutters. “And it’s just for a month.” Norman raises an eyebrow and Harry practically cowers. “Jazzy’s a lot like Peter.”

_High praise._

Norman returns his attention to Jazzy and a feeling like an electric shock shoots through her and straightens her spine. “I will be the judge of that, and I will withhold my answer and judgement until you leave.”

“Of course,” Jazzy says with an aborted nod. “Perfectly logical, sir.”

Norman briskly turns around and makes his way back to his desk. Once his back is turned, both Jazzy and Harry immediately relax, practically melting into each other. Harry steers Jazzy around and down the right hallway, past the kitchen, and into a second living room. They collapse on the couch.

“Oh my gods, he’s going to kill me,” Jazzy blurts out. She runs a shaking hand under her hair.

“Did he freak you out that bad?” Harry responds, looking over at Jazzy with worry etched across his face. “He’s not gonna kill you.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t try.”

“Jazzy, you’re overreacting,” Harry attempts to reason. “My dad’s many things, but he’s not a murderer.”

Jazzy buries her face in her hands, bending over. Her breathing becomes fast and hard and almost hurts her chest. Everything inside of her is screaming, _Run!_ Harry places a tentative hand on her back, rubbing slow, soft circles. Neither of them say anything. There are tears pricking at Jazzy’s eyes and she just lets them spill over without a fight. She keeps seeing Norman’s cold eyes and disgust written face transform into Jenny’s killer with the same eyes and the same expression as that night. The base of her skull is on fire.

“Jazzy,” Harry whispers, dragging out her name. His voice sounds kilometers away. “Deep breaths.”

“I can’t,” Jazzy chokes out. “I can’t breathe, I can’t.” Yet she still feels as though her body is getting enough oxygen.

“Jazzy, can you look at me?”

She reluctantly lifts her head from her hands. Her breath hitches as their eyes meet. Harry looks back at her with warm green eyes, so unlike his father’s. There’s a reassuring smile on his face and Jazzy gulps in air. She doesn’t exhale, but she doesn’t need to. Harry nods encouragingly. Jazzy drinks in more air, clearing her mind with each breath.

“Thank you, Harry,” Jazzy breathes once she’s stopped shaking. “That hasn’t happened to me for a couple of years.”

“No problem,” Harry responds. “I got your back.”

“And I got yours,” Jazzy responds, leaning against Harry. They breathe in each other’s silence for a few moments. “So, your dad doesn’t know you’re gay?”

“He probably does but doesn’t mention it for whatever reason.” Harry bounces his leg. “Why do think he’s going to kill you?”

Jazzy sighs. “Maybe I’m crazy, but he looks like Jenny’s killer.” She sighs again. “At least his expression did.” Harry doesn’t say anything. Jazzy looks up at him and cannot make out his expression. His eyes are focused somewhere over her shoulder. “I know rationally that he probably hasn’t killed anyone but my heart…” She taps her sternum.

Harry shakes his head and locks eyes with Jazzy. “I don’t think my dad’s ever killed anyone, but don’t think for a second that I’m defending him.”

“Why do you hate him so much?”

“D’you know how much it sucks being taken away from your only friends right after your mother died?” Jazzy knows it’s a rhetorical question. “He didn’t even allow me time to heal, physically, before we moved. I’ve only been back to New York once since then.”

“Couldn’t you go back whenever you wanted to?”

Harry laughs bitterly. “Fuck no. My dad controls when our damn jet leaves.”

“So why’d he let you go once?”

“I told him that I was going to New York whether he wanted me to or not, and if he didn’t allow me to take the jet, I would walk there.” Jazzy tilts her head. Harry mirrors the movement and rubs the back of his neck. His voice and eyes lower. “Peter’s uncle died and I wasn’t going to leave him by himself. Shit, Ben was one of the best people   
I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I wouldn’t have been able to bear not being there for Pete when he was there for me, yanno?”

Jazzy nods and pulls Harry into a hug, for both their sakes. Norman, unfortunately, chooses that moment to walk into the room. Harry looks up and slowly pulls away from Jazzy. Jazzy follows Harry’s eyes. Her body goes rigid and her lungs stop expanding.

“Dinner sounds rather pleasant at the moment,” the businessman states in a highly passive aggressive way. “Doesn’t it, Harry?”

“Yeah, of course it does,” Harry responds in a rushed manner with rather wide eyes. He stands from the couch. “I’ll get right on it. You hungry Jazz?”

“Yeah, I could come help?”

“That would be fantastic, thanks,” Harry says. Jazzy stands up and Harry leads the way to the kitchen. Norman stares down at them as they pass. Once they reach the enormous kitchen, Harry whips around to face Jazzy. “You can cook right?”

“Mhm, learned from my mom and took a cooking class in high school,” Jazzy shrugs. “What we making?”

“Something quick, but filling. Decently healthy.” Harry hums, going into the pantry and looking around frantically before searching the fridge. “Ah-ha!” he shouts. “Honey garlic glazed salmon!” Harry pulls out a few salmon fillets along with a couple of other ingredients, gently placing them on the kitchen island, before heading back to the pantry and grabbing a few other things.

“What do you need me to do?” Jazzy asks.

“Measure out the honey, third cup, and soy sauce, fourth cup, then put it in,” Harry holds out the ‘n’ as he bends down and pulls out a small glass bowl, “here.”

Jazzy’s does as she’s told once a measuring cup is placed in front of her. She pours the soy sauce, then the honey, and watches as Harry adds lemon juice and red pepper flakes before mixing it all together. Jazzy brings the fillets over to the island, unsure what else to do.

“Mince this.” He hands her a few cloves of garlic. “Oh, there’s four not three, huh,” Harry says, freezing and staring down at the fish.

“I can eat two,” Jazzy says. Harry looks between her and the fish before shrugging. Harry hands Jazzy a couple of paper towels and she pats the salmon dry.

Harry heads over to the cooking range, pulling out a large skillet and some oil. He turns the heat on before adding some oil to the pan. “Bring over them fishies,” Harry states, beckoning behind him. Jazzy brings them over. Harry adds each one to the pan with skin facing the ceiling. He sprinkles some salt and adds some pepper. The two stand by the pan for several minutes, not speaking and just watching the fish cook. Harry grabs a turner when the salmon turns a beautiful golden color and flips them over, drizzling a bit more oil over top.

“Garlic,” Harry orders.

Jazzy brings the minced garlic over and scrapes it into the pan. The smell of garlic enters her nose and she closes her eyes, a small smile unconsciously forming. Harry eventually adds the honey sauce and several lemon slices before letting it reduce and spreading the sauce over the fish. He turns the flame off and serves the salmon onto three plates, leaving one in the pan.

“Gods, it smells delicious,” Jazzy sighs.

“Bring ‘em to the table? The big one? Please?”

“Sure thing.” Jazzy grabs two of the plates and takes them to the closest dining table, setting the best looking one at the head of the table. She places the other next to it and Harry comes and puts the final plate across from the second one.

“Dad,” Harry calls. “Dinner.” He sits down and Jazzy does as well.

Norman quickly appears from around the corner, taking his place at the head of the table. He stares down at the dish for some time before finally nodding his approval and digging in. Harry looks over at Jazzy and gives the tiniest nod. They eat in silence, which is fine by Jazzy because she gets to fully experience the absolutely delicious dish.

“What are you studying at university?” Norman directs at Jazzy once she comes back to the table with the fourth fillet.

Jazzy frowns, not remembering having mentioned that she’s going to college. “Investigative journalism,” she responds with a carefully level voice. Jazzy searches his face for any reaction but finds none.

Norman leans back in his seat, wipes his mouth, and crosses his arms. He maintains eye contact with Jazzy. “I would’ve thought someone like Peter would have chosen better.” She knows that the statement is directed toward Harry.

_I’m right fucking here._

“She is like him,” Harry says, speaking slowly and clearly choosing his words carefully. “More so in morals and personality than their respective studies.” Harry looks down at his plate and shifts his fork. “You know I wouldn’t just say someone is like Peter for no reason, Dad.”

“I do not know what you would or would not say, son, as your judgement is blurred.”

_Should I say something?_

“I see just fine.”

“But your mind does not.”

Harry huffs, mumbling something under his breath, but he doesn’t retaliate. Jazzy glances between them, unsure what the exchange was about in its entirety. Norman’s focus returns to the guest, pools of poison seeming to search through her. Jazzy wishes she could relax.

“Despite my son’s...inept comparison,” Norman states, leaning forward and placing his hands purposefully on the table, “I have decided that you will be able to stay for your winter break. While here, you will follow the rules of the house or you will not be able to come here again.” Harry mutters something unintelligible again. “Excuse me?”

“I said Peter doesn’t have to follow the rules,” Harry repeats, a flicker of rage in his eyes. “But I do.”

“Because Peter is always respectful, and you are not,” Norman says, his voice hard and louder than before. Jazzy flinches with Harry. “It would have been much preferable if Peter were here in your stead.”

Harry sucks in a breath. “Excuse me,” he says, pushing his chair back.

“No, you are not excused,” Norman responds.

Harry freezes but doesn’t move his chair closer to the table. The tension between the two is so intense that Jazzy feels like she’s underwater, unable to breathe. She watches as a myriad of emotions flicker through Harry’s eyes--rage, fear, acceptance, even sorrow. Jazzy does not like this interaction, but she can already tell from Harry’s reaction that this is normal for them.

_It’s not right._

“I need to talk to my son,” Norman says, eyes remaining on Harry. “Leave. Harry will pass on all the information I need to know about you staying with us.”

Jazzy nods. “Okay, thank you, Mister Osborn.” He gives a vague nod as Jazzy stands. Harry looks after her with pleading eyes. There’s not much Jazzy can do, so she gives a helpless shrug before rinsing her plate and placing it in the dishwasher. “Goodbye, it was a pleasure meeting you, Mister Osborn. Don’t die, Harry.” Jazzy makes her way back to the foyer where she slips her shoes on, grabs her things, and leaves. She immediately hears shouting as the door closes and she has to force herself away and toward the elevator. It isn’t like she can get back inside the penthouse anyway.


	21. Chapter 21

Jazzy triple checks her backpack, purse, and suitcase. She periodically checks her phone as well, hoping that none of their plans have changed, but as there are no missed calls or unread texts from Harry, she assumes everything is still okay. After checking the time for around the fifth time in one minute, Jazzy looks up at Levina shoving her things haphazardly into a cardboard box.

“You know we don’t have to take everything with us during break, right?” Jazzy asks.

Levina glares at her. “I know, but I’m leaving.”

“Leaving as in...dropping out?” Levina gives a brisk nod and throws her last couple of items into the box. Jazzy stares, unsure what else to say. She coughs. “Why?”

“Because there is no meaning to this,” Levina states. “I am better than everything here. Hell, I’m practically a god,” she adds with a laugh. “Come with me and we’ll show everyone that we are better.”

Jazzy laughs, then stops abruptly when she sees no amusement flicker across Levina. “Just because I have powers doesn’t mean I’m better,” Jazzy says. “I need this, I can’t just leave.”

Levina sighs in disappointment. She lifts the box rather easily and heads toward the door. She halts and turns back to Jazzy. “I made you, I am your creator,” she states. 

“Don’t ever forget that.” Then she’s gone, leaving Jazzy standing in the middle of their dorm--her dorm--confused and very concerned for Levina’s mental state.

Jazzy’s phone buzzes and she looks down to find a simple message from Harry. Jazzy jolts, hastily grabbing everything, giving her room a once over before heading down the stairs. Jazzy silently thanks her spider strength with her suitcase cradled in her arms. Leaving the building, Jazzy immediately makes her way to the parking lot, finding the out of place Osborn limo with Harry standing outside in a light, long sleeve shirt.

“What a gorgeous child,” Harry coos at the suitcase. Jazzy rolls her eyes and sets it down. “That’s no way to treat a child.”

“Then you take care of it.”

“Incapable.”

Jazzy stares at Harry for a moment, unsettled by his response. He whips around with wide eyes before looking back at Jazzy and flashing a smile. Harry heads into the car. Jazzy slides her suitcase, backpack, and purse in alongside Harry before entering herself.

“Ready for a month of living like a rich kid?” Harry asks, smile still present on his face.

“Will I ever be?” Jazzy replies. “Gods, this is going to be surreal.”

“Dude, it’s gonna be surreal with three people in the house,” Harry states. The limo pulls away from the campus. “Oh yeah, house rules.”

“Are they hard to follow? Or like overly strict?”

“Eh, they’re pretty strict but other than that it’s not a big deal. Annoying, sure, but it’s whatever.” Harry sighs, looking up at the roof. “Don’t go in my dad’s office or bedroom, don’t bother him when he’s working, when he’s home you listen to everything that he says and pretty much do what he says without question unless you want to piss him off. When he’s not home though, we can be as loud as we want.” Harry hums and screws his face up. “Don’t touch the art.”

“Simple enough,” Jazzy says. “I’m assuming also common sense things?”

“Yeah.”

“Why does Peter not have to follow them?”

Harry sighs. “In case you didn’t get it, my dad likes Peter a lot. Not in, like, a creepy way, mind you, but as a son, which would be fine except he’s always telling me to be more like him because Peter’s the _perfect_ son, and I’m a disappointment.”

“That’s harsh.”

“I know. I am though.” Jazzy tilts her head and looks at Harry with furrowed brows. “A disappointment.”

“Harry, you’re not.”

“I am in his eyes.”

_I can’t argue against that._

The two fall into a somewhat tense silence for the rest of the car ride. Jazzy looks out the window at the blurred buildings as she taps her thigh. Harry leans back in his seat, eyes closed, occasionally muttering something to himself, too quiet even for Jazzy’s enhanced ears to pick up on. Jazzy tries to ignore it, but it’s difficult when Harry will occasionally huff out a laugh or screw his face up in an expression not unlike pain.

_Is he...hallucinating?_ Jazzy silently wonders. She shakes her head and returns her focus to the skyscrapers and people flying past.

Jazzy actually thinks that they’ll make it to the penthouse without her mentioning Harry’s odd, yet rather normal behavior. That is until Harry lets out a whimper and curls in on himself. Jazzy turns her whole body toward the sound, acting purely on instinct. Harry is clutching his stomach, looking down at his clean hand like something terrible and disgusting is smeared across it.

“Harry?” Jazzy whispers. “What’s wrong?”

Harry looks up at Jazzy, then back down at his hand. A look of surprise briefly crosses his face before he straightens up. “Nothing.”

“Why are you lying?”

Harry’s face hardens. “I’m not--”

“You are,” Jazzy interrupts. “This happens often enough that I am worried, Harry.” The car stops but neither of them make a move to get out. Harry glares at Jazzy and she holds it. “What’s wrong?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Harry’s voice is hard and cold and too much like Norman’s. “Even if I tell you, you’ll probably just assume things like you’ve done before and leave.”

Jazzy can feel her eyes widen, shock settling into her bones. She swallows the knot forming in her throat, threatening her to just drop the subject. “Then don’t let me assume. Tell me what I need to know so I don’t ever assume anything about you ever again.” 

Harry inhales shakily. He opens his mouth and Jazzy thinks, _Maybe, maybe I got through to him._ But then he closes it and shakes his head. Jazzy’s heart drops as Harry steps out of the car and walks toward the building, not even waiting for Jazzy to follow. Practically throwing her stuff out of the limousine, Jazzy scrambles to catch up to Harry. She slips in through the door as it is closing behind him, shedding her coat while maintaining a handle on all her other objects.

“Harry, please,” Jazzy begs. Harry doesn’t look at her as he enters the elevator. “C’mon, man. What’s wrong? I just want to help.”

Harry spins around to face her. “Don’t you get it, Jazzy? Unless you can somehow fix my fucking brain you _can’t_ help!”

Jazzy stumbles back, she can’t help it. Harry has never yelled at her before. There are tears pricking at her eyes and she knows it’s selfish. She thinks Harry might be tearing up too, but it is nearly impossible to tell with her blurred vision. “I’m sorry,” Jazzy murmurs. Harry crosses his arms, eyes averted from Jazzy until after they enter the penthouse.

“You can stay in the guest room next to mine,” Harry says, looking toward Jazzy but not finding her eyes. He gently runs his tongue piercing over his spider bites--a habit that he has picked up on when thinking or anxious. Harry turns and leads her past the second living room into an enclosed hallway with three doors on the left hand side. 

“My room, guest room, dad’s.” Harry points to each door as they head down the hall. “Sorry for, for uh, snapping.”

Jazzy scuffs the floor and looks down at her feet. “My fault, I pushed.” Jazzy drags her things to the middle bedroom, swinging the door open. She looks up and gapes. The room could fit the entirety of the living room and kitchen of her childhood home inside. There’s a queen-sized bed pushed against the far wall with light green sheets framed by ivory curtains. There is a simple desk, a wardrobe, as well as a flatscreen TV in the corner. Jazzy slowly walks in, dropping her bags on the bed and parking her suitcase at the foot of it. She opens the curtains and grins at the beautiful view, though not as spectacular as some of the ones from various rooftops in the city. She turns back to the door, mouth open to make a comment to Harry, but finds that he’s no longer in the doorway. Jazzy frowns and bites the inside of her bottom lip. She peers around the doorframe and to the right toward Harry’s room. His door is open, so Jazzy makes her way over. She stands in the doorway and finds Harry sitting in his bed with his phone in his hands.

Jazzy takes a few seconds to take in Harry’s room. His king-sized bed has soft looking sheets with skeletons dancing across them. There’s a few posters hung up on the walls of _Star Trek_ and _Lord of the Rings_ along with some other franchises that Jazzy does not recognize. Harry’s desk is messy with crumpled bits of paper tossed haphazardly on the floor. Some of his clothes are hung on the edge of his bed and his walk-in closet goes so deep that Jazzy cannot see the back of it. There’s a flatscreen TV with a couch and a couple of gaming chairs in front of it. She knocks on the door.

Harry glances up and then quickly returns his attention to his phone. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

“I guess.”

Jazzy steps into the room, walking toward the bed then deciding against it, heading for the TV and sitting herself on one of the gaming chairs, spinning it to face Harry. Jazzy stares, wanting to say something to her friend but unsure of how she can remove the tension between them.

_Maybe I should just drop it._

Jazzy lowers her eyes to the edge of Harry’s duvet, staring at half a skeleton. She mindlessly traces the edges with her eyes of where black meets white, imprinting the image into her mind. Her eyes move up the duvet, tracing each dancing skeleton along the way, until she reaches Harry’s feet. His toes are curling and uncurling intermittently within his fluffy socks.

“Are you talking to Peter?” Jazzy asks. Harry glances in her direction again. “Or, um, Felicia?” Jazzy feels heat rising to her face as her words come out choked. _It’s only awkward if you make it awkward,_ she continuously repeats to herself.

“Peter and Em-Jay,” he responds, voice flat.

Jazzy perks up. “You haven’t told me about Em-Jay.”

Harry sits up a little straighter, shifting his position slightly so he’s more angled toward Jazzy. “I haven’t told you about Em-Jay?” he scoffs at himself. “Really? I’m so lame.”

“Yeah, Harold, get it together.” Jazzy smiles, the tension easing away.

“Okay, okay, I’m on it Jazlyn.” Harry swings his legs over the edge of his bed. “Em-Jay’s, like, the best. Next to Peter, obviously. She’s super chill, really easy going, but also totally our voice of reason.” Jazzy chuckles. “Anyway, she moved to Queens around the start of middle school. I wasn’t really sure about her at first, but then Peter told me he had a crush on her and so I felt it was my best friend duty to get them to talk to each other, so I did.”

“You’ve been friends ever since?”

“Yup,” Harry says, popping the ‘p’. “Peter’s aunt May and Em-Jay’s aunt Anna were absolutely conspiring to get them together in some way or another, they admitted to it.”

“Bet you were jealous,” Jazzy states.

Harry nods. “They never got together though.”

“So you still got a chance.”

Harry’s face falls. “Ha, I wish.” He looks down at his phone before adding, “Pete doesn’t feel...that way.”

“You sure?” Harry nods dejectedly. “You tell him then? Or ask him?”

“I told him, more or less, at least I did something that can’t be interpreted any other way.”

“But did he explicitly say that he doesn’t like you back?”

Harry looks up at her. “Well, no.”

“Then don’t lose hope, champ.”

Harry smiles at her, big and grateful, before standing and sitting down on his couch. Jazzy spins her gamer chair back around. Harry leans over the armrest.  
“You haven’t really talked about your friends much,” Harry states. Jazzy shrugs in response. “Why’s that?”

“Don’t have a lot of friends.”

“But you do have friends. Other than me and Chey. Tell me.”

“Yeah, alright.” Jazzy leans her head back. “So there’s this guy and we get each other. His name is Taylor, I’ve mentioned him before, we met in band my freshman year of high school where he tripped over a stand. He didn’t stay the entire time we were in school, moving around all the time being a military brat, but we still keep in touch.”

“He tripped over a stand?” Harry says, lips twitching as he tries to control his laughter.

“Yeah, it was fucking hilarious.”

“Wanna play a game?”

“Sure. Your choice because I have no idea what you have.”

“Everything, Jazzy. I have everything.”


	22. Chapter 22

Over the next couple of days Jazzy takes her time exploring the penthouse. It boggles her mind with how massive it is, but she knows it is even bigger than she can tell. There are rooms, she knows that she might never see. Harry has to give her a tour the first time so she doesn’t get lost and accidentally wind up somewhere she shouldn’t.  
Jazzy decides that Harry’s room is her favorite area of the penthouse. It feels the most lived in, the most welcoming. Harry laughs when she tells him, telling her that he agrees but also loves the kitchen.

“Didn’t your mom die in the kitchen?” Jazzy asks.

“Yeah, but she also taught me how to cook in the kitchen, plus she didn’t die in this kitchen,” Harry responds. “C’mon, I’ll make you some lunch.”

Jazzy follows Harry into the kitchen and jumps up onto the island counter. “If you need my help with anything I’ll do it.”

“I know,” Harry says. He takes out a square, shallow dish from one of the cabinets. “You like cauliflower, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool.” He takes a head of cauliflower from the fridge and cuts it up into medium florets. He puts them in a bag, tossing the cauliflower around in some oil and minimal spices. The florets are put in the shallow dish and then into the oven. Harry goes into the pantry and returns with his arms full. He sets the various ingredients on the island then retrieves a bowl and a few measuring cups. Jazzy finds a couple of chili peppers among the items.

“Spicy sauce? Didn’t know you did spicy, Har.”

“Occasionally.” Harry measures everything out and pours them into the bowl. His phone rings--a rather obnoxious song that Jazzy has come to associate with Peter Parker.   
Harry pushes the bowl toward Jazzy while simultaneously accepting the video call. He props his phone against a stand. “Hey Pete!” Harry’s face lights up. Jazzy peers over at the screen.

“Hey Harry! Whatcha up to?”

“Cooking,” Harry turns to Jazzy. “Stir the sauce.” Jazzy snorts and picks up an abandoned spoon, doing as Harry demanded.

“Oh, hi Jazzy.”

“Hi Peter, I can’t see your face,” Jazzy replies.

“I can’t see yours either. Harry, turn me.” Harry laughs and does so, sitting down next to Jazzy on one of the stools. Peter has an anticipatory smile on his face, glasses throwing glare at the camera. His hair makes it look like he just rolled out of bed. “Ohhh, so this is what you look like.”

“What did you think I would look like?”

“I don’t know,” Peter says, waving his hand. “I guess I was thinking more of like, uh, lighter hair? Blue eyes maybe? I don’t know, overall lighter palette I guess.”

“That’s more a description of my dad than me,” Jazzy chuckles.

“How you actually look definitely lines up more with what Harry’s told me, though.”

“What does that mean?” Harry wonders.

“It’s like how a person should look because it reflects the inside?” Peter screws up his face. “That didn’t really make sense, did it?”

“No, no, it’s like when I took you to get a haircut,” Harry states.

Peter nods excitedly, eyes lighting up. “Or you getting your hair dyed and face pierced.” Peter’s phone beeps and then shifts until Harry and Jazzy are left with a wonderful view of the ceiling. “Sorry, sorry, hold on, I just gotta...do the thing.”

“How long has the cauliflower been in there?” Harry asks Jazzy.

Jazzy checks the clock hanging on the wall behind the dining table. “Uh, like fifteen minutes I think.”

“What are you cooking?” Peter asks, face still hidden from view. “Well, I mean, I know it’s cauliflower.”

“Roasted cauliflower with that good spicy sauce you know,” Harry replies. “Had to make some for Jazzy.”

“Oh yeah, the good kush.” Peter’s face returns to the screen, his glasses akimbo. “And you know it’s the good kush because it is not from the dollar store.” Peter attempts to pat down his hair but to no avail. “You know J. Jonah Jameson?”

“Yeah?” Jazzy replies. “He hates Spider-Man, that’s his entire gig, right?”

“Yeah, well, don’t work for him.”

“Why? What?”

“Harry said you’re a journalism major so I’m giving you a heads-up. Jameson does not pay me enough to risk my life every day getting pictures of ol’ webhead.”

“You still on about this, Pete?” Harry chimes in, an amused smirk upon his lips. Peter nods, fixing his glasses. “Go, like, work for the Bulletin instead, or a celebrity gossip magazine.”

“Well, see I would Harry, but because Jameson is so obsessed with Spider-Man he always knows where the most likely place Spidey will show up is.” Peter’s phone beeps again. “Speaking of, gotta go. Play a game sometime, yeah?”

“Absolutely, love ya, Pete. Be safe,” Harry says.

Peter nods, a slight dusting of pink covering his cheeks. “See ya, Har. Bye Jazzy.”

“Don’t die,” Jazzy responds.

“I try,” Peter says before ending the call.

Jazzy turns to Harry. “‘Love ya’?”

“Yeah, I say that all the time. I did tell you that he knows.” Harry stands and pats Jazzy on the shoulder before checking on the cauliflower.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ah yes pain

Jazzy’s floating in darkness, specks of light surrounding her. When she looks to the right she finds the Earth taking up most of her view. There are lights twinkling from its surface and a hazy blue-gold glow around the planet. Jazzy’s never seen a sight more beautiful.

She turns her head to the left and finds Jenny staring back at her with the widest smile upon her face and she thinks maybe she was wrong and this is the most beautiful sight. She reaches her hand out to Jazzy and Jazzy gratefully reaches back, their fingertips touching. They remain still, Jazzy becoming lost in the beauty of the Earth and Jenny, basking in the glow of the stars.

Jazzy opens her mouth to tell Jenny that she loves her, but everything fades away as the sound of a heavy object hitting the wall startles her awake. She turns on her side, expecting to find Jenny waiting for her there, but she’s not.

_Because she’s gone._

Tears spill out of Jazzy’s eyes, soaking into the pillow beneath her. She screws her eyes shut, trying to will herself back to her dream, trying to will Jenny back. She slams her fist down on the pillow several times as sobs course through her body. But the loud thud sounds again. Jazzy swings out of bed, leaving the room and walking toward the sound. She finds herself at Harry’s door. Jazzy knocks and the thudding stops.

“Did I wake you? Sorry, m’bad,” Harry says as he opens the door.

Jazzy blinks slowly, wiping at her face as she realizes it’s still wet. “What are you doing?”

“Uh.” Harry looks back inside his room rather sheepishly. “I was...throwing things. I forgot you were here.” Jazzy merely responds with a questioning look and a sniffle. 

“You okay?”

“Are you?”

Harry looks down at his feet. He steps aside. “C’mon.”

Jazzy steps into the room, jaw dropping at the mess before her and the walls with holes in the plaster. She carefully steps over an open book with a torn page and Harry’s laptop as she makes her way to his bed. Jazzy sits at the foot of his bed and watches as he walks across the floor, not bothering to watch for the things on the floor. Harry steps on his laptop and Jazzy hears the crack from the other side of the room.

“So, um…” Harry mutters once he joins Jazzy on his bed, “my dad’s not here right now.”

“Oh. Good.”

They fall into silence, neither looking at each other. Jazzy closes her eyes and sees Jenny’s smiling face, renewing her tears. She lets them fall down her cheeks and onto her lap. When Jazzy looks over at Harry, his hands are shaking and he’s looking at the wall littered with holes.

“Is he gonna get mad?” Jazzy whispers, voice hoarse.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes back.

“Harry?” Jazzy’s voice breaks, but she can’t find it in herself to care. Harry looks over at her and Jazzy’s lip trembles. He surges forward and wraps his arms around her. Jazzy buries her face in Harry’s chest, gripping his shirt and feeling herself tear small holes into it. She feels Harry’s head come to rest on her shoulder as her body is wracked with sobs. Small whimpers escape her throat. Jazzy feels like the tears are going to run her dry as she remains curled against Harry.

“You’ll get through this,” Harry murmurs into her ear. “You’re so damn strong.” Harry’s sweet words cause Jazzy to sob louder and harder. He continues whispering in her ear despite Jazzy feeling tears of his own seep into her shirt.

They stay in each other’s embrace long after their tears have run dry. Jazzy’s body continues to shake as she maintains her grip on Harry’s shirt. Their breathing syncs up; both of them taking long, even breaths.

“We’re having a shitty night, huh,” Harry mutters, startling a laugh out of Jazzy.

“Very.”

Harry reluctantly pulls back far enough to look at Jazzy. “What happened?”

“I…” Jazzy chokes on her own words. She grips Harry’s shirt tighter and closes her eyes. “I dreamt of Jenny and when I woke up I thought...I thought she was with me.” Jazzy lets go of Harry’s shirt, though keeps her arms on his chest. “What about you?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so my...mind…” Harry trails off. He looks toward the wall. “I woke up my dad and he…” His brows draw together and he runs an incredibly shaky hand through his hair then he takes a rattled breath. “And I got mad, and there was,” he gestures toward his head, “and I _acted_ on it.” He looks back at Jazzy.  
“I don’t...I don’t understand,” Jazzy states truthfully. She wishes that she did so badly.

Harry takes in another unstable breath. He closes his eyes and says slowly, “I woke my dad up because I was hallucinating the damn _fucking_ goblin again and the voices in my head told me to break the wall.”

“Because you’re,” Jazzy starts, cutting herself off before she continues. She doesn’t want to assume anything anymore. “Schizophrenic?” Harry’s only response is a jolted nod. “Meds?”

“I can’t,” Harry whispers. “They give me seizures.” He opens his eyes and his green eyes look tortured. “How’d you figure schiz?”

“I’ve studied a lot of mental disorders and, well.” Jazzy doesn’t finish, knowing that Harry will understand what she means.

“Why’d you study them?”

“Because I think something’s wrong with me,” Jazzy mutters, lowering her head.

“Maybe there is, but that just makes you, you. Trust me, I know.”


	24. Chapter 24

“No fucking way,” Jazzy shouts, mouth hanging open. “No fucking way, Harry, you fucking didn’t.”

“I can’t tell if you like it or not,” Harry laughs.

“Dude, I love it! But now I feel like I gotta give you something amazing. Fuck I forgot to even get you anything.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“I’m sweating it,” Jazzy says, still unable to move her eyes from the Yule present before her. “I’m sweating it hard.”

“Seriously, it’s fine. Just enjoy your ride.”

“Didn’t I like,” Jazzy says, finally looking at Harry, “tell you I wanted this all of one time?”

“Yeah, but I remembered.”

Jazzy looks back. “You got me a fucking motocycle. What the hell.” She looks at Harry again. “Holy shit.” Jazzy practically lunges at Harry as she gives him a hug. He hugs back, chuckling softly.

“Now you don’t have to spend all that money on taxis.”

Jazzy laughs, pulling out of the hug. “Time to go for a test drive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter i'm uploading tonight? eh probably not


	25. Chapter 25

Roughly a week later, Harry and Jazzy are playing one of the many video games that Harry owns with Peter Parker when a blackout sweeps through San Francisco. Harry shouts, throwing his hands up in aggravation, and the two hear Norman yell as well. Jazzy’s skull tingles. She glances rapidly around the room, yet there is no sign of any immediate danger, except _the blackout._

Jazzy knows that she should investigate the cause, but she has no idea how she’ll be able to sneak away from Harry. He’ll notice her missing anyway. Yet the tingling doesn’t stop, only intensifying. She gets up from the couch and looks outside the window.

Streaks of blue lightning shoot across the sky, all seeming to converge--or emanate from--near Jubilee Plaza. Jazzy becomes almost entranced by the ethereal light dancing through the sky. She barely notices Harry walk up next to her.

“There is no way that’s normal,” Harry mutters.

“I have to go,” she blurts as the tingling at the base of her skull becomes a pounding.

“What?” Harry asks, but Jazzy is already out of his room.

She heads to the guest room, closing the door and quickly changing into her suit hidden in her backpack. She goes to the window and sneaks out, gently closing it behind her as she has done multiple times while staying at the Osborn penthouse. She crawls to the roof of the building before bounding her way toward Jubilee Plaza as a safety precaution; she doesn’t want Harry to spot her.

The intensity of the electric light around the block surrounding Jubilee Plaza nearly blinds Dancing Spider. She closes her eyes, stuck to a wall. She slowly opens them as she becomes accustomed to the lights flashing beyond her eyelids. Soon she’s able to make out the shape of each building and what appears to be a glowing figure floating high above the street. Dancing Spider makes her way toward the figure. Each streak of lightning pains her eyes, but now she knows for sure what the cause is.

Jazzy perches on the roof of Jubilee Plaza. “Hey!” she shouts up at the person. “Who the hell are you?”

The person moves closer to her. “I think you know exactly who I am.” The voice is so familiar, but it can’t be. “I’m your creator and you will bow to me.”

“Levina,” Jazzy states, barely louder than the crackle of electricity around her. She can see her clearly now, despite the sparks shooting off from every pore of her old roommate’s body. Levina’s maniacal grin, her long black hair floating around her shoulders, and that damn teal lipstick. “What are you doing?”

Levina is draped in a skin tight, sleeveless dark blue bodysuit that wraps around her neck. The bodysuit exposes her sides, lining them with gold lightning. Her heeled boots nearly come to her knees and blend with the suit, almost impossible to tell the two items apart. A shimmering, gauzy cloak flows over her shoulders that somehow comes across as more regal than gaudy.

“I want to show the world who I really am,” she says, voice rising in volume. “I am Electro and I am your goddess!”

“You’ve really gone off the deep-end, haven’t you?”

Levina’s grin turns into a scowl. She raises her hand and a burst of fire runs along Jazzy’s spine. Dancing Spider flips to the side feeling like she’s in slow motion--arms covering her chest and face--as a streak of electricity shoots from Levina’s palm. Dancing Spider watches helplessly as tendrils of lightning branch out and lick her forearms. Starbursts of pain fly straight up her arms as she lands further along the roof. She glances at her arms finding singed, blackened white spandex and already blistered skin.

“Have you always been so...shocking because I think I would’ve remembered this,” Dancing Spider shouts at Electro. Levina groans and Jazzy knows she’s rolling her eyes.

“My powers are mine and they are not of your concern.”

“They’re kinda my concern if you’re frying everything and causing the power to go out,” Dancing Spider states, giving a slight shrug. Electro floats toward her and she assumes her fighting stance.

Levina hovers a few centimeters off the roof, the sparks coating her body dimming enough that she looks almost human. “This was all just a show to get you to me. Come with me.”

Jazzy’s brows furrow. “Come with you? You’re insane, why are you obsessed with me?”

“Obsessed? Hardly,” Electro laughs. “You are my first creation and I know we could do great things together, you just have to follow me.”

“Eh, not much of a follower. Or a leader for that matter.”

“You reject your goddess?” Levina’s voice is filled with fire and threats.

“You are no god of mine.”

Electro snarls, electricity crackling back to life across her skin. Dancing Spider winces at the intense light. Electro rises above the skyscrapers, lightning stretching from her fingers and shattering windows. Dancing Spider hears screams from inside the buildings and a surge of adrenaline makes its way through her veins. She leaps to the building across from her, hoping Levina will follow her away from the mall. The only thing on her mind is to keep everyone else safe.

Electro does follow her, shattering glass and causing car alarms to go off wherever she moves. Dancing Spider glances behind her frequently, gauging the distance between herself and her pursuant. She notices the lights just before the horizon turn back on as they head further.

_So she does have a limit._

Jazzy catches herself on the upper frame of a missing window and swings into an abandoned parking lot. She slips onto one of the support beams, hiding herself from the view of the window. Jazzy peeks around the corner just enough to see Levina enter the building.

“Come out, Jazlyn,” Levina whispers sickly sweet. Her quiet voice echoes off the concrete walls. “I promise I won’t kill you.”

Jazzy leans her head back against the wall. _Even if she’s telling the truth, doesn’t mean she won’t beat me up._ She holds her position, chest no longer moving as breaths fail to make their way into her throat. _What have you gotten yourself into, Jazzy?_

Sparks skitter across the walls and along the floor. Electro’s glow nears with every second that passes. “I don’t have to see you in order to hurt you. Maybe I’ll just cause this building to collapse.” A loud_ BANG_ causes the building to shake, filling the air with the scent of ozone. Jazzy carefully looks around the corner to find a crumbled pillar. “One beam at a time.” Another _BANG_ and a flash of the most intense light Jazzy’s ever witnessed and the pillar beside her disappears.

She senses the next blast coming toward her. Dancing Spider leaps out of the way and onto the ceiling. “I know some people eat roasted spider, but I can tell you I probably won’t taste good.” Levina smiles, shooting another blast and disintegrating a fourth beam. “Uh, you missed me.”

“I wasn’t aiming for you.”

The ceiling begins to tremble the same time her skull starts tingling. “Oh shit.” Jazzy looks up to see Levina’s smirk one more time before the ceiling collapses with her still stuck on it.


	26. Chapter 26

Jazzy wakes up to a buzzing and a sharp pain running through her left arm. Her head hurts as she lifts it up, but she’s glad to see most of her body nearly untouched by the broken slabs of concrete around her. She looks to her left arm and grimaces. Jazzy rolls over slowly, careful not to move the trapped arm as she pushes it off of her. The arm comes instinctually to her chest, soaked in blue blood with something white sticking out from her costume. She rolls onto her back.

“Oh gods,” she mutters, eyes wide beneath the mask. “I broke my fucking arm, oh my gods.” Some part of her brain registers that the buzzing hasn’t stopped, instead coming from somewhere near her waist. Jazzy groans as she reaches into her iridescent belt and pulls out her phone. It only has one crack along the screen. “Shoutout to Oscorp phones.” She lifts the lower half of her mask and answers the call. “Yeah?”

“Jazzy!” Harry exclaims sounding all sorts of relieved. “Where are you? Why’d you leave?”

“I had to,” Jazzy cuts herself off with a groan as she tries to sit up. “Had to go.”

“Are you okay?”

“I…” Jazzy looks down at the blood still pouring from her arm and the bone the pierced through her skin. “I broke my arm.”

“Where are you? I’m coming to get you,” Harry states. Jazzy makes a noise of protest. “Nope, I’m not hearing your damn attempts to get me to stay here.”

“The blackout.”

“The lights came back on half an hour ago. Where are you?”

“Harry, it’s fine, I can get back on my own.”

“Your arm is broken and if you don’t want to go to the hospital, that’s fine, but I’m not letting you walk back here by yourself.”

“Harry, you don’t get it, you can’t come here,” Jazzy says, panicked. “It’s not, it’s not safe.”

“I don’t care,” Harry responds. “I care about you and if it’s not safe then I’m getting you out of there.” Jazzy hears rustling on his end of the line. “Now tell me where you are or I will track your phone.”

Tears fill her eyes and she’s not sure if it is because of Harry’s concern or the pain still shooting through her arm. “I-I’m in an abandoned parking lot, I’m not sure where.”

“Can I track your phone?”

“Yeah.”

Harry ends the call and Jazzy relaxes as much as she can against the concrete. She stares down at the visible bone, then she twists to see the burn on her right arm. The blisters don’t appear to have healed at all. She puts her phone back in her belt. My cuts usually start healing by now. Jazzy turns her attention to the night sky, stars glittering down on her. _I need to change. Harry can’t see me like this, he can’t know._ But there’s nothing she can do. Jazzy manages to take her mask off, but she hurts too much to move much more.

“Jazzy?” Harry’s voice echoes through the ruins of the parking lot. “Hey, it’s Harry.” Jazzy hears a few footsteps followed by a, “What the hell happened here? Jazzy?”

“Over here,” Jazzy calls. “Please don’t freak out.”

A few seconds later and Harry is stepping over the rubble. His breath hitches when he finds her. “Jazzy...what happened? What’s going on?”

“Don’t freak out,” Jazzy repeats. “Help me out of this and I swear I’ll explain everything.”

“You’re Dancing Spider.”

“Yeah, help me.”

“Right, mhm, yeah,” Harry says swallowing hard. He nearly slips down the concrete making his way to where Jazzy lay. He carefully slips his hands under her back and knees and picks her up. “Your blood is blue.”

“Yup.”

Harry looks like he has a million questions. “How are we getting back?”

“I, uh, need clothes. And a bag.”

“I’ll run and get those things, help you change, but Jazzy you gotta go to the hospital for your arm.”

“I can’t--” Harry doesn’t let her finish the sentence, gently setting her down against a wall and running out into the street. Jazzy leans her head against the wall and waits for Harry to return for what feels like an hour.

“Okay, so,” Harry says, finally coming back. “Got this cheap ass duffel bag, some sweats, a baggy shirt, and some scissors. I’m gonna take your shoes, belt, and pants off.”

“Go for it.”

Harry very cautiously removes said items, folding them and putting them in the duffel. He helps Jazzy slip into the slightly too big, much too long sweatpants. He does a pretty decent job of not moving Jazzy’s arm. “Shirt’s a little more...complicated.”

“Take the gloves off first,” Jazzy says, holding out her right arm. He does. “Okay hold this sleeve, I’ll slip my arm through.”

“Got it.” Harry grabs the end of Jazzy’s right sleeve, tugging slightly as she maneuvers her arm through it and down to her side. They both look down at her broken arm. “I figured,” Harry says slowly, “that the only way to get this off was by cutting the shirt down the side and around the sleeve, so I bought scissors.” He pulls out a rather short but sharp looking pair.

Jazzy’s eyes widen and she shakes her head vigorously. “No. No, no, no. I can’t do that. Harry I can’t do that.”

“There’s no other way without fucking up your arm more.”

“Harry, please, please. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Jazzy shuts her eyes, tears spilling out the pursed corners. “I can’t, I can’t. Don’t touch me with those, please.”

“Okay,” Harry relents. “Keep your eyes closed and I swear it won’t touch you.” Jazzy nods, tilting her head away. “Okay, stay really fucking still.”

Jazzy tries her best to stay still, but she can’t help the small shivers that run through her body every time she hears the scissors slicing through the fabric. Harry keeps to his promise, though; Jazzy never once feels the blades touch her skin. She only opens her eyes when she hears the scissors clatter to the ground. She watches Harry slowly peel the blood soaked shirt off of her body and place it in the bag. She looks down at her left arm still sheathed in a spandex sleeve.

“I’m gonna take this off. If I hurt you, tell me.” Harry’s shaking fingers grasp at the upper part of the sleeve, dragging it down Jazzy’s bicep and halting at the elbow. “Nope, nevermind, not risking it. Close your eyes again.” Jazzy does and quickly hears the snip of the scissors follow. “I’m not going to bother putting your arm through the sleeve, okay? I’m just gonna slip it on over your head.”

“The shirt?”

“The shirt.”

“Okay, thank you so much Harry.”

“No problem.” Once he finishes dressing Jazzy, he puts the scissors in the duffel bag and zips it up, slinging it over his shoulder. Then he picks Jazzy up again, being incredibly mindful of her arm. He walks her through the relit streets and to the nearest hospital. They enter through the ER. As Harry is walking them up to the reception desk, a doctor almost runs into them.

“Oh, god, sorry,” Harry says, stepping backward. The sudden movement causes Jazzy’s arm to rustle and she lets out an involuntary whimper.

The doctor turns to them. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Broke my arm,” Jazzy mumbles. “Got a couple of electrical burns too.”

“Okay, follow me,” he says, quickly walking down one of the halls. Harry follows him into a decent sized room. “Set her down here, gently, then go back to the desk and check her in. You can come back here when you’re done.” Harry nods, but hesitates before leaving. Jazzy smiles at him and he goes. “I’m Doctor Dan Lewis,” the doctor introduces while washing his hands. “Can you tell me what happened, uh…?”

“Jazzy.”

“Jazzy. What happened?” The doctor begins wiring the equipment in the room to Jazzy. Soon the machines are beeping and she can see her heart rate.

“I don’t know how to explain this.”

“Okay, take your time. Let me have a look at what we’re dealing with here.”

Jazzy raises her right arm. “I have some burns like this on my other arm too.” Dr. Lewis examines the streak of blisters. “I was, um, near Jubilee Plaza when the, uh, freak lightning and blackout happened.”

“It looks like these will heal properly as long as they don’t get infected. I’m going to clean them now.”

“Okay.”

He swipes the arm with an antiseptic and bandages it in gauze. The pain doesn’t fully register in Jazzy’s mind. “Now, I need to see your arm. Did you move it at all?”

“Only once.”

“Okay, good. So I’m assuming you changed afterward?”

“Yeah, Harry helped.” Jazzy makes no move to lift her shirt, instead holding the bottom down with her right hand, eyes darting to the corners of the room. “I had to, yanno?”

Dan nods. “Jazzy, I need to see it.”

Harry re-enters the room and locks eyes with Jazzy. “She not cooperating, Doc?” Harry wonders. The doctor nods. “Jazzy, he needs to set the bone.”

“I know that, Har, but telling one person today is already so much,” Jazzy states. “Doctor Lewis?” He hums. “Patient doctor confidentiality still applies for me, right?”

“Yes.”

Jazzy looks to Harry; he nods. She slowly lifts her shirt, exposing her arm and the blood dried dark blue along her skin and bone. She notices the doctor’s eyes widen a fraction, but otherwise have no reaction. “I’m, uh, Dancing Spider,” Jazzy murmurs. “A building fell on me.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Harry says.

“A building...Look, I was fighting Levina, who goes by Electro now I guess, and she caused the blackout,” Jazzy explains. “I led her away from people as best I could and she ended up collapsing a ceiling on me.”

“I’ll need to take a full body CT scan,” Dr. Lewis chimes in as he picks up a pair of scissors. “If a building fell on you, then you might have other broken bones or possible damage to your organs.” Jazzy closes her eyes as he makes to cut the rest of her sleeve off. The blade touches her skin and Jazzy has to fight the urge to scream.

“Okay,” Jazzy agrees, voice tight.

“I will need you to fully remove your shirt,” he says.

“I’ll help,” Harry says, walking over to Jazzy and carefully maneuvering the fabric off Jazzy’s body.

Jazzy ends up being wheeled to the CT scanner, then her arm is set, luckily not needing surgery. She waits with Harry for quite a while before the results of her body scan come in and Dr. Lewis is able to return to their room. Jazzy zones in and out of consciousness while they wait.

There’s a knock on the door before Dan comes in. “I have good news and weird news. The good news is that you have no damage to your organs and only a small hairline fracture on one of your vertebrae.”

“Weird news?” Jazzy asks, not sure what to expect.

“Your organ structure,” he starts slowly, “is unlike any I’ve seen. It does, however, explain why your blood is blue.”

Jazzy sits up. “Show me?”

Dr. Lewis nods and pulls out several sheets. Jazzy stares at them in disbelief. Harry gets up from his seat. “This,” he says, pointing from the top of her chest down to around her navel, “is your heart, and it appears to only pump blood in one direction. Your lungs are, well, you have eight of them.”

“Are they book lungs? Wow, that explains these slits under my ribs.”

“Jazzy, what the fuck?” Harry whispers.

“Look, I was bit by a spider like four months ago and now I have powers. I guess now I have spider anatomy too.”

“That does appear to be true, but not entirely. Most of your organs in your abdominal cavity are exactly as they should be.” Dr. Lewis sighs and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “Why do I get all the weird ones?”

Jazzy and Harry end up staying at the hospital for a few more hours. Jazzy had adamantly denied having a cast. Dr. Dan reluctantly agreed to give her a splint and less reluctantly supplied his direct number in case of other emergencies or illness. By the time the two get back to the penthouse, the sun had already risen.


	27. Chapter 27

It isn’t until after Harry and Jazzy get some sleep that Harry starts asking his questions. Jazzy’s surprised he waited as long as he did.

“You said you’d explain everything,” Harry says when Jazzy makes her way to his room. “You have spider organs?”

“I guess. It explains why I don’t breathe sometimes,” Jazzy shrugs. “Look, I found out about that the same time you did.”

“Okay, fair, but a spider bite?”

“Yeah, you know, Stan my peacock spider. Levina experimented on him and he bit me and I got powers.”

“And she’s Electro?”

“That’s what she called herself.”

“Jazzy, I’m gonna level with you here, this is not the weirdest thing that’s happened to me.” He leans back into the couch. “Just be careful when you go out there. But why do you go out there?”

“It takes my mind off everything and at least now I can help people, like I should’ve with Jenny.”


	28. Chapter 28

Winter break ends sooner than Jazzy would like. She finds herself in her dorm, one side very empty, despite Jazzy checking every nook and cranny for anything that might be Levina’s. Jazzy’s arm is still in a sling and her suit is still a torn wrecked mess. Jazzy sighs and collapses onto her bed. A few minutes pass before she hears the door unlock. She sits up, thinking that Levina still has her room key. Instead a blonde haired girl with bangs and a black headband walks in. She has a box in her hands and a backpack slung across her shoulders. Behind her is who Jazzy assumes to be her mother with the same blonde hair and similar looking faces.

“Hi,” Jazzy says, shock causing her voice to sound abrupt and confused. “Who are you?”

The girl looks over, wide eyes transforming into a large, heartwarming smile. “Hey, I’m Gwen Stacy, this is my mom.”

“I’m Jazzy.”

“I’m your new roommate, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all. Do you need help moving in?”

“Only if it’s no trouble with your arm.” Gwen puts her box on the ground and throws her bag onto the bed.

Jazzy swings herself out of bed. “No trouble, I can handle it.” Jazzy kicks a doorstop under the door before following Gwen and her mother back down to their car. “Where you from?”

“New York,” Gwen replies, handing a box to Jazzy. Jazzy can’t help but laugh. “What’s funny?”

“I keep meeting people from New York.”

“All your friends?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure if Chey is from New York, but Harry definitely is.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll be friends too.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bunch of short chapters huh

Jazzy lays on the roof of Jubilee Plaza, wrapped in a soft blanket as she stares up at the stars. She sighs, tugging the blanket closer. A streak of light crosses the sky and Jazzy wonders if it’s a comet or a wandering starship. Jazzy sighs again.

_Explore the stars for me. Jenny, are you up there? What’s it like, I wonder._

The cold seeps through the blanket, causing a shiver to run through Jazzy’s body. She ignores the cold, feeling at peace for the first time since she sat beside Jenny in the planetarium just a mere few steps away. Jazzy stretches her right arm up to the sky, feeling like she could grab the stars.

_‘Come inside, you’ll catch a cold,’_ Jazzy hears Jenny’s voice echo in her mind. Her lips quirk upward. Her arm flops lazily down to her side. _I’ll go back home in a bit,_ Jazzy thinks as a sudden wave of fatigue washes over her. Her eyelids droop and she shakes her head, waking herself momentarily. Jazzy’s attempts at remaining conscious are futile as she drifts off to sleep.


	30. Chapter 30

“Where were you?” Gwen asks when Jazzy stumbles into their dorm late the next morning. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, totally,” Jazzy replies, nodding slightly. She collapses in her chair. “I just, yanno, went to go look at the stars and fell asleep.” Jazzy kicks her shoes off. “I go out a lot, don’t worry about it.”

Gwen stares at her for a moment. “Okay.” She turns to her desk, but almost immediately turns back around. “Oh! You’re a journalism major, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was looking at internships and Eddie Brock is looking for one,” Gwen informs with a smile on her face. “Thought you might be interested.”

“I absolutely am,” Jazzy exclaims, sitting up straighter. “How do I, uh, do the thing?”

Gwen laughs, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “Open your laptop, I’ll show you.”

“Okie dokie,” Jazzy responds. She turns in her chair and does as she was told. She opens a new tab. Gwen comes up behind her and quickly types in a website filled with different internship opportunities. Jazzy hums in amazement. Gwen scrolls down and clicks on an unassuming internship. It is titled Journalism Intern Wanted for Daily News.

“There you go,” Gwen says, leaning back. “If you need any more help, just ask, okay?”

“Sure thing, Gwen.” Jazzy turns her attention to the webpage, reading the description of the internship. It does seem like a regular internship until she reads that it is for the Brock Report and the intern will be working directly with Eddie Brock. Jazzy’s breath catches.

“The selected intern will learn how to prepare for interviews, will conduct various forms of intensive research, and occasionally accompany Brock on selected interviews and other field work,” is the description of the internship. “The internship is paid. The duration of the internship may vary, but will last for at least two months.”

_An internship with Eddie Brock._

Jazzy reads the page multiple times before following the rules for application. She attaches her resumé, writes a cover letter, then writes an essay on why she wants this opportunity and why she should get the position. Jazzy holds her breath as she hits send.

“It’s done,” Jazzy breathes. “There’s not much more I can do at the moment.”

“Hey, I hope you get it,” Gwen says behind her. Jazzy turns her chair and smiles at her roommate. “And I hope I get mine.”

“What’d you apply for?”

“Oscorp bio department.”

“Oh? Maybe I could get in a good word with, uh, at least Harry,” Jazzy suggests.

“Really?” Gwen says, eyes lighting up. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah, totally. Though I don’t know if Stormin’ Norman will listen to Harry or me. Plus, he’s probably not in charge of finding interns.”

“Whatever might help I am totally down with you doing.”

“Anything you can do for me?” Jazzy jokes with a crooked smile. Gwen laughs and shakes her head. “I’ll call Harry.”


	31. Chapter 31

Jazzy stresses about the internship for the next couple of weeks, not even able to rejoice when Dr. Dan removes her splint after only a little over a fortnight. Jazzy almost gives up hope that she won’t get it when she doesn’t hear back from anyone at the beginning of February. But when she opens her laptop after class and checks her email, well, she couldn’t even begin to describe the shock and joy she feels.

The email informs her that during the following weekend she will come to the Brock Report studio for an interview. Jazzy stares at the date, time, and location before putting it into her phone and writing on the calendar above her desk. She knows it’s not a guarantee that she’ll get the internship, but she has a chance.

“Gwen!” she exclaims once her roommate returns from...whatever she was doing. “I got an interview!”

She beams at Jazzy and wraps her in a quick hug. “Yay! I’m so excited for you!”

“Any news on yours?”

“No, but I did receive an email that told me it takes several weeks to read through all the applications, so I’m not too worried. At least not yet.” Gwen claps her hands. “But tell me more about the interview.”

“It’s this weekend at the studio at eleven AM,” Jazzy explains. “And I’m meeting Eddie Brock. Don’t let me forget about it.”

“I won’t.”

The weekend comes faster than Jazzy was expecting. She spent the days leading up working out her nervous energy on patrols and practicing for the interview on various rooftops while watching the streets. Jazzy stares too long at her wardrobe, trying to figure out what to wear. She’s hyper aware of the time ticking by as she stands with indecision.

“Well, some nice black slacks,” Jazzy mutters to herself, grabbing one of her two pairs. She slips it on so she’s not just standing in her underwear. Jazzy glances at the time, cursing and grabbing a dark blue sweater she got a week ago. It looks nice enough. She throws it on and messily puts her hair into a braid. Slipping on a pair of black boots, Jazzy grabs her keys, purse, motorcycle helmet, and leather jacket. She’s out the door and down the stairs in a flash.

Jazzy swerves between cars on her motorcycle, the thrill of coming so close to the metal beasts almost as amazing as jumping across skyscrapers. She makes it to the small studio with five minutes to spare. Jazzy turns the bike off and locks her helmet to it before entering the building.

She feels...underwhelmed. The interior seems so unimportant despite the warm lighting and open area. But at the same time, it feels right. Jazzy steps up to the desk and rings the bell, tapping her thighs and shaking her leg. A man comes over and smiles.

“Jazlyn Joyce, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Alright, follow me.” The man walks down a hallway and Jazzy follows. The hallway has a few branches, but mainly opens up into a rather large work area. Now this is more like it. There are a few people milling about and chatting. Jazzy tries to take in everything--tall glass tables, soft looking benches, a coffee bar--but she is led to the side and toward a short hall lined with doors. Jazzy peeks through some and finds that they’re all offices. There aren’t that many. Maybe five. Jazzy’s escort stops and knocks on the last door, closest to a side door leading to the outside. “Eddie? Jazlyn’s here.”

“Okay, let her in,” the voice of Eddie Brock responds.

Jazzy can’t keep the giddy smirk from her face. The man pushes the door open and gestures for Jazzy to enter. She does, careful not to trip while walking through the door. First impressions, they really do matter. The door closes behind her.

“Hi, come on in. Sit down if you want,” Eddie says, looking up from his laptop as he closes it with a small, polite smile.

Jazzy sits down in the seat on her side of his desk. “Hi, I’m Jazzy.”

“Eddie Brock, but I think you already knew that,” he replies, stretching his hand out over the desk. Jazzy takes it and gives a firm shake.

“Yeah, yeah I did.”

Eddie leans back in his chair. “Tell me about yourself.”

Jazzy straightens in her chair. “I’m from the Arapaho region, specifically Noowóo3-ííteen” Jazzy starts. “It’s my first year of college, I go to SF State and I major in journalism, obviously.” Eddie chuckles. “I go by Jazzy or Jazz, um, and I’ve had experiences with the police before. And uh I, I don’t know, I’m good at time management?”

Eddie smiles. “Time management is good,” he states. “What kind of experiences with the police?”

“Well, I told them about a murder I witnessed,” Jazzy stutters out. “Called them once because I was worried about a friend.”

“I might ask about that first one later.” Eddie crosses his arms. “Why do you want to be a journalist?”

“You, actually,” Jazzy replies immediately. “And I want to help bring people to justice, or make the public aware of certain issues that don’t get covered enough by the media as it is right now.”

“You watched my show even though I only really cover local news?”

“Sure. Everything is affected by everything, and it’s good to know about things happening outside of a small town.”

“Do you have any questions for me?” Eddie says.

Jazzy hums. “What’s your favorite part of the job?”

Eddie takes a moment to answer, lips twitching. “The interviews.”

“Why?”

“I never know what’s going to happen. Hopefully, the person tells me what I already suspect, but if not then it gives me a new lead.”

“Did you have a choice, really, to start following the Demon of San Fran and Dancing Spider?” Jazzy asks with a shit-eating grin. “Or was it like, big thing, I have to cover it?”

“Bit of both. The LIFE Foundation led to Ven--uh, the Demon and he kills people, so I figured I’d keep track, maybe try to find out who, what he is. Dancing Spider was more of the latter.” Eddie’s eyes become slightly unfocused. “I know, I know, we can get tater tots,” he mumbles quietly enough that Jazzy thinks a normal person wouldn’t have been able to hear him. Jazzy tries to keep her expression neutral. “Thank you, Jazzy, unfortunately we don’t have anymore time, so I’ll have to conclude the interview.” Eddie stands.

“Okay,” Jazzy says, standing. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. We’ll let you know if you get the internship within a few days.” Eddie flashes a smile and holds his hand out for Jazzy to shake it again. Eddie leads Jazzy to the door, holding it open for her.

“Thank you, Mister Brock,” Jazzy says.

“Of course.”


	32. Chapter 32

Jazzy’s on patrol when her phone starts ringing. She has an assaulter by the neck and pressed against a wall. She fishes her phone out and answers without looking at the caller.

“Hello?”

“Eddie Brock here,” is the quick reply. Jazzy almost drops the criminal. “Jazzy?”

“Yeah, hi Mister Brock,” she greets. “How are you?”

“I’m...good,” he says, sounding surprised. “I called to tell you that you’ve been chosen for the internship.”

Jazzy does drop the assaulter at that. “Are you serious?”

“Very,” Eddie chuckles.

The assaulter attempts to bolt, but Jazzy just taps her on the head and she passes out. “When, uh, when should I start? When do you want me to start?”

“There is an interview I have tomorrow,” Eddie states. “I asked him already if I could bring my intern, he agreed, surprisingly. Sound good?”

“Yeah, absolutely, what time?”

“One. Meet me at the studio. You have your own transportation right?”

“Yeah, I have a motorcycle,” Jazzy responds.

“Oh, that makes this much easier. I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah, thank you.”

Eddie hangs up and Jazzy slowly puts her phone back in her belt as though in a daze. She runs her hand under her hood, knocking the hood down. She shakes herself, pulling a zip tie from her belt and fastening the assaulter’s hands behind her back. Then she jumps up to the roof on her left and perches on the edge. Jazzy looks out over the city and breathes in deep.

_Wow._

Jazzy sits down, legs swinging over the edge of the building. A few people below shout at her and she lazily waves at them. There’s a breeze from the bay that is beginning to chill Jazzy as she relaxes. A shiver runs through her body, but she ignores it.

“Hey Dancer,” a familiar voice says from behind. Jazzy turns around and finds Black Cat leaning in the shadows of the roof access door. “It’s been awhile.”

“Cat, don’t you usually come out at night?”

“I do, but I saw you up here and thought you might want the company.”

“You gonna fight me?”

“Depends,” she replies, leisurely making her way to sit beside Dancing Spider. “Do you want to?”

Jazzy hums in thought, swinging her legs. “Not right now.”

“Alright.” Black Cat sits next to her, looking down at the pedestrians as Dancing Spider looks up at the darkening sky.

Jazzy finds Cat’s presence comfortable and rather soothing. Something about her emanates a calming energy. She looks over at Cat to find her staring back. Black Cat smiles, green eyes holding a playful shimmer.

“Why do you steal?” Jazzy questions, the sentence out of her mouth with no thought.

Black Cat tilts her head and hums. She flexes her fingers and her razor claws extend. She taps them against the roof. “It’s fun and keeps me on my toes,” she replies. “And it’s all I know.”

“You do it for yourself?”

“I do. No one hires me, but some do buy from me. You don’t like it.”

“You’re a criminal,” Jazzy replies. Black Cat rolls her eyes. “But I’m also a klepto and I can’t say that I’ve never stolen anything.”

Black Cat smiles, a breathy laugh escaping her plump lips. “I think the difference is that I steal what people will notice.” Jazzy nods. “Is that why you don’t seek me out?”

“I don’t know where I’d find you,” Jazzy responds honestly.

“Then I’ll keep finding you,” she whispers, tracing a finger down Jazzy’s cheek. “And I’ll keep catching you, but you can’t catch me.” Black Cat smiles again before dropping off the edge of the building. Jazzy startles and makes to leap after her, but she’s nowhere to be found.


	33. Chapter 33

“You’re early,” Eddie states as Jazzy walks into his office. “That’s good.”

“Are we going to do the interview now?” Jazzy wonders.

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. “The interview is in an hour, I just wanted to build on your interviewing skills beforehand and talk a bit about what I’m trying to find.”   
Eddie shifts in his chair. “Did I tell you who we’re interviewing?”

“No,” Jazzy replies.

“We’re interviewing Norman Osborn.”

“Oh boy,” Jazzy mutters. Eddie gives her a questioning look. “I’ve met him before, several times,” Jazzy explains. “But I’m guessing you’re trying to find any hints of unlawful, unethical activity in Oscorp?”

“I am.” Eddie leans forward. “Since San Francisco became the main hub for Oscorp, there has been an increase in unexplained disappearances and select gangs acquiring better weapons that look and work enough like Oscorp weapons, but are different enough that Oscorp can deny that they made them.”

“That could all be correlation, not causation,” Jazzy states. “Did those same statistics drop in New York once they moved?”

Eddie smiles. “They did. I’m glad you’re thinking about this like that.” Eddie leans back. “And you’re right, of course, but that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“Norman Osborn is a hard man to read or get talking,” Jazzy says. “I spent a month in his penthouse and I barely know anything about him.”

“You spent a month in his penthouse?”

“Yeah, I’m friends with Harry.” Jazzy waves her hand, dismissing what she said. “But tell me more about these disappearances.”

“There have been multiple anonymous reports of Oscorp employees vanishing with no trace of them on Oscorp’s servers like they never worked there at all. Most of the city’s homeless has disappeared since Oscorp’s move, of course I did take into account those that were recruited by Drake for his experiments, but they disappear in a way that doesn’t match up with an increase of jobs or the employed or even more apartments and houses being sold.”

“What do you want to ask him?”

“I have a few questions prepared, but I want to work with you on creating your own questions.”

“And I’ll ask him them?”

“Only if you want to. I will never force you to do anything you don’t want, so if you don’t want to ask Osborn your questions, I’ll ask him instead.”

Jazzy nods and they get to workshopping on interview questions. Some Eddie writes down in his pocket notebook while others he tells Jazzy to refine or narrow down, others he tosses away completely. Jazzy jots notes down in a small notebook she brought with her.

The hour passes quickly and soon Jazzy and Eddie are standing in the lobby of Oscorp. The interior of the building is open with tinted glass walls and various sets of stairs, escalators, and elevators. Jazzy looks up in the center of the atrium and finds a skylight on the roof with people milling about on all of the floors. Most of the employees are wearing white lab coats with badges hanging from the pocket or lapel. Eddie and Jazzy were issued press badges. Eddie ends up taking Jazzy’s arm and directing her toward one of the glass elevators.

Once inside a familiar female voice asks, “Floor?”

“Norman Osborn’s office, KARI,” Jazzy replies before Eddie can even open his mouth. The elevator begins its rather quick ascent.

“You know the AI?”

“Like I said, I’m friends with Harry.”

“Wasn’t aware he had friends.”

Jazzy opens her mouth, but is cut off by the elevator doors opening. They step out onto the floor and look around.

“This way,” Eddie says, pointing toward the left. Jazzy follows him to a large oak door where the sound of shouting can be heard from behind. Jazzy recognizes the voice as 

Norman’s, but can’t tell what he’s yelling about or who he’s yelling at due to the thick door and walls.

“I hope they rip you to shreds,” a voice says as the door opens a few moments later. Jazzy startles, stepping backward.

“Harry,” Jazzy breathes.

Harry turns around, eyes widening, before he slams the door shut. “Jazzy, what are you, uh, what?” His eyes flicker to Eddie.

“Got the internship, Har,” Jazzy says with a smile. “Everything okay?”

“Dad’s in a bad mood, you know how that is,” Harry says, gesturing vaguely behind him.

“Why are you here?” Eddie asks.

“My dad needed to talk to me.” Harry takes a few steps toward Jazzy. “I should get going, don’t get jumped by anyone.” Harry wraps his arms around Jazzy in a quick embrace.

“I won’t,” Jazzy replies. “Don’t die.” Harry pats her back then heads down the hall toward the elevators. Eddie knocks on the door.

“Come in.”

Eddie opens the door and enters. Jazzy closes it as she follows. They sit down across the desk from Norman who’s back is turned to them as he stares contemplatively out his window. Jazzy glances around the office, noting a door with a hand scanner as well as several masks staring down at them from the walls.

“Norman Osborn,” Eddie states.

“Eddie Brock,” Norman responds while turning to face them. “And Jazzy Joyce. What a surprise.”

“Mister Osborn,” Jazzy greets, carefully choosing her words. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“She’s your intern?”

“Indeed she is,” Eddie says. “Now, shall we start the interview?” Eddie takes out his audio recorder and notebook. Jazzy fishes her own journal out of her purse.

“Of course.” Norman keeps his eyes on Jazzy. A tingle that is nearly painful spikes at the base of her skull. She grips her notebook tighter.

Eddie starts the recording. “This is Eddie Brock here with Jazzy Joyce and we are interviewing Norman Osborn.” Eddie clears his throat and leans forward. “Despite the many controversies that was brought about by the cross-species genetics program there has been talks of reinstating it, isn’t that correct?”

“That is correct, however I can neither confirm nor deny whether or not the cross-species genetics program will return to Oscorp,” Norman responds. “If it does, the security on the animals will be increased and, despite the many potential benefits, we will not be using spiders.” Jazzy’s brow furrows and she sits up straighter.

_Spiders? They used spiders?_

“How would you go about testing whether the new animals will work with human DNA?”

“A part of our AI’s programming includes running simulations for formulas that my scientists and I come up with. At first we make sure the simulation works as we want before testing on animals such as rats. If those tests work, then we return to the AI and run the simulation for humans and eventually move to human testing,” Norman explains. “However, as I’m sure you already know, we never got to the human testing portion with the spiders.”

“What animals are you thinking about as possible candidates for the cross-species genetics?” Jazzy chimes in.

“Lizards would be our main focus as they regenerate their limbs.”

Eddie leans back and crosses his arms. “How do you go about choosing people for human testing? How often do they survive or have ill side effects?”

Norman’s focus turns solely to Eddie. His eyes are narrowed and they would have pierced a hole through any inexperienced receiver. “If the cross-species genetics program is revived, the volunteers would be amputees. All volunteers are of a large variety with different ethnicities and gender. Each person we test on provides us with informed consent. They survive the tests most, if not all, of the time. While there are the occasional side effects,” Norman says, voice hard and cold, “each volunteer, as I stated previously, knew the risks and agreed to such testing.”

“Is it possible that these volunteers do not fully understand the consent forms?”

“Of course it is possible,” Norman states with an eye roll. “However, if they agree without either fully reading the form or asking for clarification, then legally, it is their fault. How would the company be able to tell that they didn’t understand the form when nothing was said?”

A sickly feeling begins to crawl up Jazzy’s spine. She can tell that Norman knows how to word his responses so as to prevent incrimination, yet he doesn’t seem to deny the plethora of conspiracies against him or any unethical behavior within his company. Jazzy thumbs at the pages of her notebook, eyes glancing around again. She spots a vial filled with a bright green liquid on the desk in front of her. The liquid bubbles, and as she stares at it, her spidey sense begins to blare. She shuts her eyes and looks away from the vial. She quickly writes a note about it.

The interview continues in much of the same way--Eddie asking questions and Norman answering them with Jazzy adding her own question in every once in awhile. Her eyes, however, continue to find their way back to the green liquid.

“Those are all my questions, and unless Jazzy has anymore, then that concludes the interview,” Eddie says, snapping Jazzy back to reality.

“I have one more question,” Jazzy blurts. Eddie raises an eyebrow at her. “In regards to your son Harry, are there still plans for him to take over Oscorp?”

“Once I can no longer run my company, then yes, Harry will take over. However, at the current time, he is not fit to take over Oscorp, so if something were to happen to me,” he locks eyes with Jazzy, “then the company could fall into a pair of corrupt hands.” He folds his hands together on his desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment to attend to.”

Jazzy swallows. Hard.

“Thank you for your time, Mister Osborn,” Eddie says, breaking the slowly building tension. Norman nods and Eddie ends the recording, standing from his chair. Jazzy follows suit, Norman’s eyes still locked with hers. They leave the room without anyone saying another word.

“He’s good,” Jazzy murmurs.

Eddie snorts. “He’s a genius and he’s been dealing with people like me since he first started Oscorp. Yeah, he’s good.”

“Did he give you any new leads?”

“No,” Eddie states, then looks over at Jazzy. “But you did.”

“Me?”

“I haven’t talked to Harry,” Eddie says. “He could give valuable information.”

“Harry’s not…” Jazzy trails off. “Oh, his birthday is in two days.” Eddie nods. “Okay...you want me to talk to him?”

“Sure, and it would be best if Osborn didn’t know.”

“Right got it.” The two exit the building and make their way to their motorcycles. Jazzy picks up her helmet and stares at her reflection. She looks up at Eddie. “Mister Brock?”

He hums as he puts his helmet on. “Call me Eddie.”

“Okay, uh, Eddie,” Jazzy corrects. “Did you see the vial of green liquid on his desk?”

“What about it?”

“I think,” Jazzy chews her bottom lip, “it might be something to look into. Just a hunch.”

“We’ll see if your hunches are right.”


	34. Chapter 34

“Happy birthday!” Felicia and Jazzy exclaim as they enter the Osborn penthouse upon Harry opening the door.

Harry’s face breaks into a grin and he starts laughing. “Thanks, guys,” he says between chuckles. “Come in.”

Felicia enters slightly ahead of Jazzy, leaning up and pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek, one hand gently holding her rather large purse in place. Her lips leave a very red mark. Jazzy pulls Harry into a probably too tight hug as he closes the door. Harry rests his head on Jazzy’s and pats her back.

“Come on, birthday boy,” Felicia purrs. “It’s time to open your gifts.”

“You got me gifts? Why?”

“You deserve them,” Jazzy states, pulling out of the embrace and following Felicia to Harry’s room. “Plus, they’re things you can’t buy necessarily.”

“Ohhh,” Harry breathes appreciatively.

Once in Harry’s bedroom, Felicia is the first to present her gift. She opens her purse and small mewl escapes into the air. Felicia gently lifts a small kitten with a tortoiseshell coat out of her bag. Harry’s face lights up, taking the kitten from Felicia’s hands and holding it up to his face. The cat puts a paw on Harry’s cheek and he seems to melt.

“You know,” Jazzy says, “maybe I should’ve gone first.”

Harry laughs, putting the cat in his lap. “Maybe, but too late now. Is there a name?”

“She doesn’t have a name yet, I thought you would want to do that,” Felicia states. “And Jazzy, do you know how hard it is to keep a kitten hidden?”

“Fair point,” Jazzy concedes.

Harry stares at the kitten for a while before pulling out his phone. He stares at the dark screen before looking up at Jazzy. “Before I get distracted more, maybe you should give me your present.”

Jazzy smiles and chuckles. “An opportunity to rat out your dad?” Harry laughs. “Kinda serious, but not my gift.” Jazzy opens her purse and yanks out her gift; a small plush red deer, an almost exact replica of the deer from _Princess Mononoke_, their shared favorite movie, and a small plush of Godzilla.

Harry gasps as Jazzy hands them over. Harry tucks them against his side.“Did you _make_ these?” Jazzy nods. “No fucking way, oh my god, I love you both.” Harry makes to move off the bed and wrap his arms around them.

Felicia holds her hand out. “Uh-uh, Harold, not with that kitten on your lap.”

Harry freezes. “Oh my god.” He scoots further back onto his bed, crumpling the sheets, and looks down at the kitten. “I’m sorry, m’bad, won’t happen again.” He strokes a hand across her back and the kitten purrs and snuggles closer to him. “A name huh? Hmm…”

Jazzy leans over and scritches behind the cat’s ears. “You could name her after your mom.”

“Emily?” Harry looks up. “Does she look like an Emily?”

“What do you think?” Jazzy asks back.

Harry shrugs vaguely and turns his phone on. His phone starts ringing and Jazzy looks at the screen to see Peter’s face.

“Hey, Har,” Peter says, hair mussed and glasses askew. He’s got a pair of earbuds in. He’s definitely walking down some hallway. “I was just about to call you. Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Pete! I need your help.”

“Oh?”

“What should I name my cat?”

“You have a cat? Since when?”

“Since Felicia got me one just now,” Harry says with a laugh. He angles the phone so that the kitten takes up most of the screen.

“Oh my god, she’s so cute. What have you got?”

“So far? Emily.”

“Does Felicia have any ideas?” Peter wonders, turning in his hall. Jazzy hears the familiar sound of a locker combination being entered. “She’s the cat lady.”

“Thanks, Peter,” Felicia says, lips quirked upwards. “And I’d rather Harry name her, because then he’ll get more attached.”

“Fair point.” Peter leaves the screen for a moment. “You could name her Din.”

“The goddess of power,” Jazzy states.

“Yup,” Peter says, popping the ‘p’. “Emily’s good too, but I feel like it’s not as much of a cat name. Up to you, Har, you’re an adult now.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Harry groans. “Any other reason you don’t like Emily for the kitty?”

Peter flushes bright red. Harry’s lips twitch upward in amusement. “Oh, um, well I was thinking like, I don’t know, if you wanted a kid or something you might end up wanting to, uh, yanno, name her Emily.”

It’s Harry’s turn for his face to turn red. “Oh,” he says, voice sounding somewhat choked. “That’s, uh, that’s a fair point, but you know I don’t really want kids.”

“I know, I know.” Peter slams his locker door. “But I’m saying maybe you’ll change your mind, maybe not, maybe I’ll name my kid after her.”

“Are you saying you want my kids?” Harry blurts, then looks like he immediately regrets it. Jazzy snorts and Felicia excuses herself. They both hear her break down into laughter as she closes the door.

Peter’s face somehow gets redder. “Harry!” he squeaks.

“A-Anyway,” Harry stutters. “Back to this lovely little kitten on my lap.”

“Too bad that’s not where Peter is,” Jazzy mumbles. Harry shoots her a wide-eyed look and she smiles with faux-innocence back at him. “So we got Emily and Din, but decided against Emily I guess because Peter wants your babies.”

“Jazzy I swear to god,” Harry says. Peter makes a strangled noise.

“Oh!” she exclaims, ignoring Harry. “What about Midna?”

“Only if you get a dog and name him Link,” Harry states.

Jazzy nods. “Deal.”

“So her name is Midna?” Peter asks. He sits down.

“Yeah,” Harry confirms. “Hey, have fun in class.”

“I won’t,” Peter replies immediately. “I’m already bored.”

Harry laughs. “See ya later, Pete.”

“Bye Harry, have a good birthday. Bye Jazzy.” Jazzy gives a quick wave before Peter disconnects.

Felicia comes back into the room. “You decide on a name?” She sits down next to Harry and the kitten crawls onto her lap. She smiles down at the cat and drags her hand down its spine.

“Midna,” Harry replies. “Jazzy’s gonna get a dog and name him Link.”

“You can’t have pets in the dorms,” Felicia says.

“I know, but I already have a spider.” Felicia’s eyes widen slightly and her hand stills momentarily. “And Harry can’t bring Midna to his dorm.”

“I’ll sneak her in, bribe anyone that says I can’t have her,” Harry deadpans. “Plus, I’m sure my roommate won’t mind.”

“Peter?”

“Nah, Pete has to room with a very specific person, I’m rooming with Flash.”

“Flash? Harry, you can’t just pop these names on me,” Jazzy laughs. “Is his name actually Flash?”

“Who’s the ‘specific person’?” Felicia wonders.

“Peter has to room with Harley for,” Harry glances at Jazzy, “uh, personal reasons.” Harry clears his throat. “And Flash is another friend, he plays football, him and Peter...don’t get along, somehow I’m still friends with him. I think he’s coming over spring break.”

“He hates Peter,” Jazzy says slowly, “and Peter hates him.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Let’s not do complicated today,” Felicia says, stretching her arms over her head and flopping backwards.

“Yeah, good idea,” Harry says. He reaches over and grabs Midna, pulling her onto his chest as he lays down. Midna looks down at his face and gives a small meow. “Hi Midna, hey,” he mutters lifting his hand up. Midna paws at it and mewls some more.

“Can you feel anything?” Jazzy asks, moving onto Harry’s bed. “Like, with your hands?”

“Mostly pressure, certain areas on my hands can feel, but most of the nerve endings are gone,” Harry explains. “So, no, unfortunately I can’t feel how soft her fur is.” Harry looks over at Jazzy as Midna begins biting his hand. “What’s the opportunity to rat out my dad?”

Jazzy snorts. “Eddie wants to interview you, told him I’d ask.”

“About my dad? Why?”

“He thinks he’s giving weapons to gangs and unethically maybe illegally experimenting on people,” Jazzy explains. “Wants to know if you know anything, but I had to wait to ask until you reached eighteen.”

Harry looks back at Midna and gently pushes her around with his hand. Jazzy watches for a while and forgets her question. “Sure.”

“What?”

“Sure, I’ll do an interview,” Harry expands. “But you have to be there and you have to ask most of the questions and it can’t be livestreamed.”

“Yeah, okay, we can do that.”

“Cool. Let’s try to do it during spring break.”


	35. Chapter 35

“Your interview is being pushed back,” Jazzy tells Harry over the phone as she jumps toward the Brock Report HQ. “We got to interview a drug dealer, I think, today.”

“That’s fine,” Harry says. “My words are, aren’t c-c-cooperat….working today, right now.” Harry sighs. “Why, why are you, why when it’s dark?”

“Interview’s early,” Jazzy says. “Wanted to get some crime fighting in first.”

“Oh, be safe.”

“I’ll try, get some sleep.”

Harry snorts and ends the call. Jazzy perches, putting her phone in her belt and taking a deep breath. Her spidey sense tingles and she sharply turns around. A streak of blue lightning arcs toward her. Jazzy’s eyes widen as she backflips off the side of the building and onto the sidewalk, startling a couple. The lightning hits the edge of the building where she just was, causing a chunk of concrete to fall toward the civilians. Jazzy shouts indistinguishably. She leaps above the people’s heads and grabs the block, slamming it into the wall.

“Get out of here,” she hisses at the civilians. They yelp and start running. Jazzy looks up and around, quickly finding the mass of electricity floating toward her. “Electro.”

“Dancing Spider,” she responds.

“Can we not do this right now?” Dancing Spider asks. “I’ve got places to be, people to meet.”

“Oh please,” she sighs. “You don’t have many friends.”

“Ouch, harsh,” Jazzy says, putting a dramatic hand to her chest. “But then again, neither do you.”

“A god needs no friends.”

“How can you be a god if no one believes you?”

Levina laughs. “Oh, they believe.”

Electro swoops down toward Dancing Spider, the crackling of the electricity deafening. Jazzy launches herself from the wall she’s on. Her fist connects with Electro’s face, blue lightning running up her arm and blackening her suit. Jazzy lands on the opposite building, slipping down slightly as she grasps her injured arm. Electro falls to the street below, electricity going out. She peels the burnt, slightly melted fabric from her hand and grimaces. There’s some skin missing with blackened edges and multiple blisters, her exposed flesh shining blue. She can feel the burn going further up her arm.

Dancing Spider jumps down and cautiously makes her way closer to Levina. There’s a bit of blood seeping out from under her fanned out dark hair, but her chest continues to rise and fall. There’s a soft blue glow around her.

_She does look like a goddess,_ Jazzy absently thinks. Jazzy hears sirens growing closer and knows that there is no place that can hold Electro. Levina opens her eyes a spark   
crosses them.

“You need to go in willingly,” Jazzy states.

Levina rolls her eyes. “I’m not going in, you can’t make me, they can’t either. No one can.” She sits up and stretches her arms to her sides causing sparks to fly off from her fingertips.

“That’s why I said willingly. Don’t make me knock you out again.”

“And burn your hand even more? I’ll take my chances.”

Jazzy’s spider sense pounds through her skull and she automatically leaps into the nearest alleyway as Levina bursts into lightning and flies away, leaving only darkness in her wake. Jazzy sees the lights of the sirens flashing and groans. She jumps onto the roof and makes her way to the backside of the Brock Report hub.

Once there, Jazzy carefully removes her suit and shoves it in a duffel bag she had chained to her motorcycle. She changes into the pair of clothing she stuffed inside a few days prior. Jazzy rolls up her right sleeve, showing the extent of the burns. The blisters and blackened skin branch almost to her shoulder. Dark bruises are beginning to appear.

_Shit._

Jazzy makes her way to the hospital, hoping that she won’t be late to meet Eddie. She also hopes that Dr. Lewis is actually working. Jazzy finds her way to the ER and goes up to the desk. She allows her burnt arm to hang by her side.

“Hi,” Jazzy greets. “Is Doctor Lewis here? I got, uh, struck by lightning.”

“He is,” the receptionist replies. “Can you fill out paperwork or would you rather I type it in?”

“Type it in, please.”

The receptionist asks for Jazzy’s name, birthdate, as well as a few other things before calling Dr. Lewis and telling her to wait in a chair. Jazzy sits down, careful not to brush her arm against anything. The doctor enters the waiting area within a few minutes and immediately spots Jazzy.

“What happened this time?” he asks, leading her to a private room. “Or were you actually just struck by lightning?”

“Technically I was struck by lightning,” Jazzy says. She sits on the hospital bed and waits for Dan to close the door. “I was fighting Electro, again.” Jazzy holds out her arm. 

“Can we make this quick? I got a meeting.”

“No promises.” Dan checks Jazzy’s vitals before wiping down Jazzy’s burn and wrapping it with gauze. Jazzy’s blood immediately begins to seep through. “I’m going to give you some antibiotics so you don’t get an infection.”

Jazzy ends up leaving the hospital within the hour and makes it back to the building in time. She leans against her motorcycle and waits for Eddie to come out of his office.   
He comes out with his helmet under his arm and muttering something under his breath.

“Hey Eddie,” Jazzy greets.

“Hey,” he responds. “What happened to your arm?”

“Oh, lightning.”

“Should you even be here?”

“Yeah, got the okay from Doctor Lewis.”

Eddie blinks slowly. “Dan Lewis?”

“Yeah, he’s my doctor.”

“Oh, mine too.” A second passes and Eddie frowns. “No, that’s a good thing we didn’t.”

“What?” Jazzy asks, taken aback.

“Nothing, I was talking to myself.” Eddie shakes his head. “Okay, we’re going to the police precinct and interviewing a gang member that said he’s willing to cooperate,” Eddie explains. “His name is Theodore Wolff, he was caught selling drugs.”

“Why’s he willing to cooperate?”

“Immunity for telling the police whatever they want to know, and us too.”

“Why are the police allowing you to ask questions though?”

“Wolff said he wanted to talk to me first.”

“Kinda like Cletus Kasady would only talk to you? What is with you and getting criminals to talk?”

“I’m just a likeable guy.”

Jazzy snorts. She swings herself onto her bike and puts her helmet snug over her head. Eddie follows suit. They make their way to the police precinct and are welcomed by a couple of officers. Jazzy looks around and realizes this is the same building she was taken to after Jenny’s death. A pang of heartache hits her and tears prick at her eyes. 

They’re led to a door into an interrogation room. Jazzy holds a hand out in front of Eddie as he reaches for the handle.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Jazzy mumbles, eyes focused on the concrete floor. “Well, I can, but I might not be thinking clearly.”

“Okay, just tell me if you need to leave the room.”

Jazzy nods and Eddie opens the door. They walk inside to find a man with his head against the metal table and two chairs across from him. Eddie and Jazzy sit down. Their chairs scrape against the floor and echo through the room. Jazzy cringes.

Eddie pulls out his audio recorder. He presses the red button. “Theodore Wolff, I’m Eddie Brock and this is my intern Jazzy Joyce.”

The man looks up and Jazzy’s heartache is joined by white hot rage. Her left hand clenches the arm of the metal chair she’s in. She feels the metal bend and groan under her grip. “Hi,” he says with a smug look.

Eddie opens his mouth to ask the first question, but Jazzy beats him to it. “What were your charges before you were granted immunity?” she says through clenched teeth. Eddie looks at her with an unreadable expression. Wolff focuses his attention on her.

“Selling illegal drugs and unlawfully carrying a firearm,” he states. “That’s it.”

Jazzy breathes in deep as red tinges her vision. “Just that.” He nods.

“Why take immunity? You know some of your gang members might come after you,” Eddie says.

Wolff leans back and crosses his arms. “I don’t want to go to prison, and they were already conspiring to kill me for getting caught.”

“Why is that?” Eddie wonders.

“I know too much.”

“Enlighten us,” Eddie invites, mimicking his posture.

“Our drug supplier, our weapons supplier, I know who they are.”

“Who’s the drug supplier?”

“The heroin we get is called Steel Serpent,” Wolff says. “Our supplier is located in New York, specifically Chinatown and Hell’s Kitchen. She’s called Gao, but that’s all I know about her. Telling you this will probably get me killed, as she is very secretive.”

Eddie nods. “Your choice. And the weapons supplier?”

“Technically, Oscorp,” Wolff states. “We use Oscorp weapons, but we’re not sure if the guy that sells it to us works at Oscorp or not.”

“Have you seen him?” Jazzy asks.

“Our supplier? No, I haven’t seen either of them.”

“Why are you risking your life?” Jazzy wonders.

“No fun in life unless you do, and I don’t have many other options right now.”

“You ever kill anyone?” Eddie shoots Jazzy a concerned, yet warning look. Jazzy ignores it.

Wolff scoffs. “‘Course I haven’t killed anyone! I doubt I would have been granted immunity if I had.” He smirks, looking like the cat that got the cream.

Jazzy clenches her jaw and feels the armrest shrink further beneath her grip. Her heart pounds in her chest--torso, whatever--and her skin tingles everywhere like Levina is standing beside her. “Off the record,” Jazzy growls.

“What?” Eddie asks, taken aback.

“I said,” Jazzy hisses, “off the record.” Eddie gives her another look before reluctantly ending the recording.

“Oh, did I say something you didn’t like?” Wolff says in the most condescending tone Jazzy has ever heard. “Seems I made you a little mad.”

Jazzy doesn’t fully realize that she’s shoved her chair back hard enough for it to clang and crumple against the wall as she lunges across the table, gripping the collar of Wolff’s shirt. Eddie lets out a shout that Jazzy doesn’t quite catch as she pulls the criminal closer to her face. She ignores the pain shooting through her arm. A spark of satisfaction runs through her body as she sees Wolff’s eyes light up with fear.

“You’re a fucking murderer,” Jazzy growls. “Fucking scum that shouldn’t be alive.”

“Jazzy!” Eddie exclaims. She sees him glance toward the door. She ignores him.

“You killed her, you killed Jenny, I should kill you right now.” Jazzy smirks. “It would be easy. I could rip your head off or squash you under my shoe like the filth you are.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Wolff gasps out.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” Jazzy shouts, voice ringing around the room and sounding foreign to her ears. “I watched you kill her! I watched as you cut through her chest, I watched as you ran away! She didn’t do anything wrong, she never did, you don’t deserve to be alive.”

Jazzy startles at the feeling of Eddie’s hand on her stomach. “Jazzy, let him go.”

“No!” Jazzy faces Eddie and the understanding in his eyes makes the rage melt away, the heartache taking over. “He killed her.”

Eddie untangles Jazzy’s fingers from Wolff’s shirt. He drops from her fingers and slumps in his chair, massaging his neck. “I get it,” Eddie mutters. “But if you do anything here, you’ll be arrested.” Jazzy’s arms sag back down to her sides and the fiery pain shooting through her right arm registers all at once in her mind. “I’m taking you out of the room.” Eddie grabs his audio recorder and takes Jazzy by the arm and into the hallway. Eddie steps in front of her but she just looks at the wall behind him. “Jazzy, what happened?”

“He killed Jenny,” she whispers. She feels something wet run down her cheek.

“Who’s Jenny?”

Jazzy looks at Eddie and feels a dam break inside her. She falls forward into his chest and sobs. Stiff arms come around and pat her back soothingly. “We were,” Jazzy manages through her hiccuping sobs, “we were gonna get married.” A pleasant, rather soothing rumble seems to emanate from Eddie’s body.

“You should tell the police that, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jazzy sniffles. She pulls away from Eddie and wipes her tears. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Eddie says. “I got what I needed, we can leave, just tell the police first. I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Sushi?”

“Sure, we can do sushi.”

Eddie helps Jazzy tell the police officers that Theodore Wolff murdered Jenny before taking her to Flying Fish Sushi. Jazzy notices that Eddie talks to himself frequently while they eat, but she doesn’t pay it any attention. She instead mindlessly eats and stares at the dangling fish lights while thinking of the first time she came here. Her chest feels hollow.

“When did it happen?” Eddie asks.

It takes Jazzy a moment to realize he’s talking to her. “Early November.”

“How are you holding up?” Jazzy barks out a laugh. Eddie nods. They continue eating in relative silence. Eddie pays for the food, and as they’re getting on their bikes, Jazzy freezes.

“Hey,” she says softly. Eddie looks at her. “I don’t want to be alone right now,” she says, “and my roommate isn’t here.” Jazzy shifts on her feet, unable to look at Eddie.

He mutters a few things to himself before saying, “You can come to our--my apartment if you want.”

Jazzy looks up at him. “Yeah? You sure that’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugs.

“Thank you.”


	36. Chapter 36

It takes about ten minutes to get to Eddie’s apartment. Jazzy enters the small area with a worn couch and armchair, small kitchen, and dead plant on the windowsill. There’s a desk tucked away in the corner with a couple of bookshelves nearby as well as a fair bit of weights and other workout equipment. His bed is in the corner adjacent to his desk and separated by more shelves. Jazzy looks around before settling on the couch. Eddie disappears toward the bathroom; the apartment is too small to have more than that. Jazzy leans her head back and stares at the stained ceiling.

_I should’ve killed him._

The lock on the door clicks and Jazzy bolts upright. She hears the pair of laughing voices before she sees the two people that enter the apartment. Jazzy slumps slightly as she realizes they aren’t a threat.

“Harry?” she says.

The laughter ceases. “Jazzy?” Harry responds. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Her eyes move over to the other person and all the breath in her body seems to fly away, taking her thoughts with it.

_Oh my gods._

He stands as tall as Harry does, but with better posture and a bigger presence, but then again, that might just be his incredibly muscled body. Jazzy can see the well defined muscles under his tanned skin and skin tight shirt. His coiffed strawberry blond hair goes perfectly with his square jaw and bright blue eyes. There’s a cocky smile playing across his lips and Jazzy doesn’t mind the eye contact. His nose is slightly crooked as though he’s been in one too many fights. He casually leans against the wall, arms crossing in front of his chest causing his biceps to seemingly ripple. Jazzy can’t seem to take her eyes off him.

“Earth to Jazzy?” Harry says, probably for the thirtieth time. He keeps looking between the two, clearly exasperated. Jazzy blinks and forces her attention back to her friend. 

“Care to introduce yourself?”

“Yeah, right,” Jazzy mutters slowly. Her eyes find their way back to his and her mouth goes dry. She takes a couple seconds to find her tongue. “I’m Jazzy.”

“Jazzy,” he states. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Harry nudges the guy. He looks over at Harry with drawn brows before his expression clears and his mouth drops in a silent ‘oh’. “I’m Flash. I’m Eddie’s...kind of nephew.”

Harry rolls his eyes and walks between them. “He’s a family friend of theirs,” he states, jerking his thumb at Flash. “Toilet’s this way, right?”

“Yeah.” Flash comes over and sits down next to Jazzy, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Jazzy’s eyes stay on him.

“Oh, Eddie’s probably in there,” Jazzy calls to Harry. She leans back and pulls her feet to her chest. “Flash.”

“Yeah?”

“Has Harry talked about smuggling his cat into the dorms yet?”

Flash chuckles. “Oh yeah, I didn’t expect anything else.” Flash angles himself so he’s facing Jazzy better. “What are you doing here? Come here often?”

“Oh my gods,” Jazzy laughs. She looks up to see that cocky grin on Flash’s face again. “I’m his intern.”

Eddie comes out from the bathroom, pauses when he sees Flash, then continues toward his desk. “Hey,” he greets as he passes, ruffling Flash’s hair. Flash tries ducking his head away.

“Not like you to bring someone home,” Flash responds, hands combing through his hair. Eddie shrugs. “What happened?”

“I had a...freak out,” Jazzy murmurs. “During an interview.”

“A freak out? Like Norman type freak out or other?” Harry asks as he sits down on the arm of the couch.

Jazzy looks up at Harry as she twiddles her thumbs in her lap. “We interviewed Jenny’s killer.”

Harry’s eyes widen and he lets out a slow breath. “That’s rough.”

Flash opens his mouth, then closes it. Jazzy looks over at him. “Jenny was my girlfriend, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

“Oh. Shit,” he says. Jazzy nods, because that about sums it up. There’s a moment of silence that feels like a pause in time. “What’s a Norman type freak out?”

Harry snorts and Jazzy huffs out a laugh. “I freaked out when I met Stormin’ Norman,” Jazzy explains. “At least he didn’t see it.” Jazzy hears the squeak of a chair and looks past Flash at Eddie. He’s giving her the most incredulous look. “I’m not explaining anymore.” Flash laughs and Jazzy finds her eyes trailing down his neck. A feeling akin to guilt wells up in her chest. Jazzy forces herself to look away and down at her bandaged arm. She twists the end of the gauze.

_Why do burns take so long to heal?_

“What happened?” Harry asks, gesturing at her arm.

“Apparently,” Eddie says, not even bothering to hide his amusement, “she was struck by lightning.”

Flash looks over at the journalist. “And you let her go on an interview?”

“If Dan says it’s okay, then I guess it’s okay,” Eddie responds, putting his hands up. “Don’t understand how you were hit by lightning though, since there weren’t any thunderstorms this week.”

“Never said it was natural, Eddie,” Jazzy says. “I just happened to be where Electro was this morning.” She meets Harry’s eyes, sees his smirk, and nearly loses it.

“I kinda forget,” Flash mentions, “that New York isn’t the only place with supervillains.” He leans his head back against his arms. “Only place with Spider-Man though.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got Dancing Spider,” Jazzy says. “Which spider is better?”

Flash looks at her from the corner of his eye. “I have to go with Spidey, always will.” Harry snorts. “What?”

“You and Spider-Man, man,” Harry replies, shaking his head. Jazzy can tell that he knows something but won’t let on what it is.

“Yeah? So what? What about you, Harry?”

“Oh, yanno,” Harry mutters, a blush tinging his pale cheeks. He refuses to meet Jazzy’s eyes. “I have to go with Spidey, too.”

“It’s because you’re all New Yorkers,” Jazzy states. “Wouldn’t be surprised if Eddie had the same answer.”

“I think Eddie would just say he likes Venom instead,” Flash says with a shit-eating grin.

Eddie turns around at that. “Now why would you say that?” he laughs.

“Venom?” Jazzy wonders.

“Oh, he hasn’t told you?” Flash asks, looking genuinely surprised. “Yeesh, Eddie, not telling your intern. Venom’s the Demon.”

“The Demon has a name…” Harry says slowly, looking up somewhere like he can’t quite comprehend. “And Eddie likes Venom? Are we counting the Demon as a superhero now?”

“Not a superhero,” Eddie responds almost immediately. “Not a supervillain.”

“Now I wanna know more,” Jazzy states. “You know the Demon well enough that you’re on, what, first name basis? How did that happen?”

“Forced into a rather unpleasant situation,” Eddie says, a smile on his face. His smile only increases with the questioning looks both Jazzy and Harry turn toward him. “But everything turned out great.”

“And now you try harder not to be a dick,” Flash adds. Eddie narrows his eyes at him.

“Why do you know so much about this, Flash?” Jazzy asks.

“Because I figured some of it out and Eddie told me the rest,” Flash explains. “Plus, I’ve met Venom.”

“Flash,” Eddie says warningly. Jazzy looks between the two.

“When?” Harry asks.

“The same day I got here.” Flash stretches an arm across his chest, popping his shoulder. “Nothing bad happened, don’t worry.”

Harry stands abruptly. “Do you have chocolate chips? And milk? Chocolate bar is fine too.”

“Yeah, fridge, cabinet closest to it,” Eddie says, typing away at his laptop. “What are you making?”

“Harry’s famous hot cocoa,” Flash states, an excited gleam in his eyes. “Make extra?”

“Sure thing, if there’s enough stuff,” Harry says. “Oh, salt?” Harry’s eyes scan the cart that acts as a table and island. He picks up the salt shaker. “Nevermind.”

“Salt in cocoa?” Jazzy asks. Harry turns to her and opens his mouth. “Oh wait, it’s one of those baking things where it makes it taste better somehow, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry confirms.

“See, I know shit. Why are you making it?”

“Because Jazz, it’ll make you feel better, trust me,” Harry says with a grin. “Just ask Flash.”

“It’s true,” he says when Jazzy looks over at him. “And it’s the best cocoa I’ve ever had, which sucks because you don’t live in New York anymore.”

“Which is why,” Harry drags out, “I’m making extra.” He puts a rather large saucepan on the stovetop, filling it with milk and stirring gently. Jazzy gets up and leans on the counter next to him, watching as Harry pours the chocolate chips into the heating milk, followed by a pinch of salt. Harry glances at her with a fond grin and a wink.   
“Learned from my mom and the interwebs,” Harry says to no one in particular as the chocolate melts.

Flash flicks the TV on, kicking his feet up onto the table again. Jazzy stares at the screen as multiple channels flash past until he settles on a documentary that appears to be about space travel. She makes her way back to the couch and sits down closer to Flash than before.

“Space,” she states, looking over at him. He nods.

“The final frontier,” Harry adds.

Flash rolls his eyes. “We’re not watching Star Trek, Harry.”

“You guys should watch it, I’m sure you’ll like it,” Harry says. Flash scoffs at the notion.

“I watched the reboots,” Jazzy says. “I know it’s not the same, but I liked them.” Jazzy pulls her feet to her chest and rests her burned arm atop her knees. “But space documentaries are good too.” Jazzy turns her whole focus on the screen, the narrator’s voice drowning out the sound of bubbling milk and keyboard clicks. She finds herself leaning toward Flash. He lifts his arm closest to her to rest on the back of the couch.

By the time Harry comes back to the couch with two bowls of hot chocolate, Jazzy is nestled against Flash’s firm side with his arm having lowered to her shoulders. Harry places the bowls on the coffee table, Jazzy sees him smirk. He heads back to the stove. Jazzy assumes it’s to retrieve the bowls for himself and Eddie. Jazzy pats the arm around her shoulder and leans forward, first grabbing Flash his bowl, and then herself.

“Thanks,” Flash mutters. Jazzy smiles and leans back into his warmth.

“You never cuddle with me,” Harry says, sitting down on Jazzy’s other side.

Jazzy glances at him but doesn’t respond. She takes a sip from the bowl cradled in her palm. The warmth flows through her body, the richness coating her tongue. The tension in her shoulders melt away. “This is so much better than packet cocoa. Why have you never made this for me before?”

“I usually only make it when someone’s having a rough day, very rough,” Harry explains. “Like you are today.” Harry sips his cocoa. “Seriously though, why are you guys cuddling?” Flash looks at Harry with a grin and his eyebrows raised.

“It feels right,” Jazzy states. “Don’t take it personally, I can only cuddle comfortably and willingly with certain people.”

“Okay, fair, but you guys just met.”

“Yup,” Flash replies. Jazzy giggles and returns her attention to the television.

For the rest of the documentary, the trio drinks their cocoa and pipe up every once in awhile. They usually say something about the documentary, but also talk about whatever during commercial breaks. Jazzy learns that Flash loves space almost as much as she does.

Flash turns the TV off as the next show begins to play; a documentary on Titanoboa that Jazzy has already seen. “One day I’m gonna go up there,” Flash states, pointing vaguely toward the sky. “And, I don’t know, maybe I’ll get an alien lover or something.”

Jazzy and Harry laugh. “That honestly doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Jazzy says. She tips the rest of her bowl’s contents into her mouth and places the dish on the table.   
“Kinky alien butt sex.” Flash snorts and Eddie starts coughing like he choked on something.

“What?” Eddie nearly shrieks.

“You heard me, Brock,” she replies. Jazzy notices his face turn red several moments later; too much time having passed for it to be caused by what she said. He turns back to his desk and mutters something down at his keyboard.

“It’s not the time, V,” Flash says, words aimed at Eddie’s back. “Not with guests in your house.”

“Would you call this a house?” Harry asks.

“Who’s V?” Jazzy says at the same time.

“Yes, I’m calling this a house,” Flash replies to Harry. “And V’s a nickname I have for Eddie.”

“Why?”

“Long story,” Flash says, waving away the question. “Not one for me to tell.” He glances meaningfully at Eddie.

“Making me live with the knowledge of Eddie’s weird nickname with no background is gonna kill me,” Jazzy melodramatically groans, throwing her head back against Flash’s arm.

“Deal with it, Jazzy, you ain’t gettin’ anything from me.”

“I’ve learned not to question the weird things my friends say,” Harry says somewhat wistfully. He puts his bowl down. “Either of you want more cocoa?”

“Yes, please,” Jazzy sighs.

“Yeah.” Flash hands Harry his bowl and the latter picks Jazzy’s up from the table.

“What about you, Eddie?”

**“Yes,”** he responds in a deeper, much raspier voice.

Jazzy does a double take. “You okay there?”

“I’m fine.” Eddie holds out his bowl and Harry takes it from his hand before walking back to the stove. “Just had something caught in my throat.” Jazzy narrows her eyes.

Flash squeezes her shoulder, pulling her closer to his side. “Don’t worry about it.” He looks down at her with an amused sparkle in his eyes. “Eddie’s got issues.”

“If I have issues, then you have them too,” he replies. “Most of the same ones.”

“Don’t we all have issues, though?” Harry says, handing Eddie back his bowl before returning to the couch with Jazzy and Flash’s. “Most of us have dead people. Dead people come with a fuck ton of issues.”

“Some literal skeletons in our closets,” Jazzy murmurs. “How do you know Eddie has dead people? Or are you talking about Flash?”

“I’m guessing, he seems like he does,” Harry admits. “Flash doesn’t.”

“Kinda wish I did,” he says, sharing a look with Harry. Jazzy raises an eyebrow. “Which sounds awful, but it makes sense.”

“It better,” Jazzy says. “Just, don’t go and kill anyone.”

“Not on my to-do list.” He smirks and leans closer to Jazzy.

“Oh!” Harry exclaims. “When should we have my interview?”

The squeak of Eddie’s chair turning precedes his answer. “Any time this week is probably best, as long as Flash either isn’t here or won’t say anything.”

“He probably already knows most of what I’m going to tell you,” Harry shrugs. “You can just interview me here, right? That’s what it sounded like you were implying anyway.”

“Sure,” Eddie says. “It would be easier, cause less of a commotion.”

“And you could make more cocoa!” Jazzy exclaims. “And I can hang out with Flash again, see if I like him.”

“Man, we cuddled and you don’t know if you like me?” Flash says, hand to his chest. “I only cuddle with people I like.”

“Oh you like me? That’s so sweet, Flash.” Jazzy’s heart feels warm inside her chest. _Why am I warming up to him so quick?_ “You’re not bad yourself.” Harry shakes his head.

“You jealous, Har?”

“Nah, I’ll always have Peter.”

Jazzy notices Flash’s grin fall slightly and a flicker of...something--rage?--pass through his eyes. “You can keep him.”

“You don’t like him,” Jazzy states.

“Do I have to?”

“No, just interesting.” Jazzy leans back and looks over at Harry. “Yanno, with how much Harry likes him.” Flash snorts.

“Pete can handle himself, and my friends don’t have to like each other,” Harry says. “You should lay off him, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Flash says, rolling his eyes. “So you’ve said before.”

“Okay, yeah, but we’re all gonna go to the same university, just, I don’t know, try being nicer to him?”

“Only if he’s nice to me.”

“Flash, c’mon man.”

“But how likely is it for them to see each other at university?” Jazzy asks. “I mean, gen-eds are pretty big classes, and unless you guys have the same major then you wouldn’t really see each other much outside of gen-eds.”

“Definitely not the same major, no way can he play football,” Flash says. “But I’m assuming a lot, because I’m sharing a dorm with Harry.”

“Oh, right.” Jazzy taps her thigh. “Why don’t you like him?”

Flash averts his eyes and looks somewhere between the TV and gym equipment. An angry flush rises to his cheeks and neck. “I just don’t, alright?” he says, voice raising in volume and taking on a rough edge. His hand clenches into a fist. “What does it matter to you?”

“Well, I was just thinking if--”

“Jazzy, drop it,” Harry interrupts. “I’ve spent well over a decade trying to get them to get along, it’s not happening.”

“I just--”

“Drink your cocoa.”

Jazzy stares at Harry and is met with a challenging eyebrow, piercings glinting in the low light. She relents and takes a long gulp of her hot chocolate. Flash’s arm comes around from Jazzy’s shoulders and he takes his own bowl in both of his hands, draining it completely before looking back at either of them. Jazzy frowns, a heavy weight settling in her chest.

_What did I do wrong? Shit._

“Flash?” Jazzy mumbles. He grunts in response. “‘M sorry, didn’t mean to pry.”

His jaw clenches and he looks sideways at Jazzy. His gaze softens slightly. “Yeah, okay.” He looks away again.

_What does that mean? Did he accept my apology? Oh gods, I made things awkward, didn’t I? Why do I even care so much?_

Jazzy nervously runs her shaky hand under her hair as her half full bowl of hot cocoa balances precariously on her knees. Her bandaged arm is cradled against her chest, feeling the quickening pace of her heart. From her peripherals she can see blue blood seeping through the gauze.

“Hey, you good?” Flash asks, looking over at her again. Jazzy stares at the blank TV screen. “I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he says slowly and haltingly. Flash leans into Jazzy’s line of sight.

Jazzy blinks at his face. She glances at her shoulder and finds Harry’s hand resting there. “My fault, I made you snap,” she mumbles. Jazzy blinks again. _He looks more like a god than Levina ever will._ Her heart slows and she shakes her head.

“Seriously, you good?”

“She’s having a day, huh?” Harry says.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Flash states. “I just got angry.”

Jazzy furrows her brows and tilts her head. “What does that mean?” Harry snorts and his hand falls away from Jazzy’s shoulder. “What’s funny?”

“He gets angry a lot,” Harry vaguely explains. “Like how you probably got very angry when you realized who was being interviewed.”

“Ohhh.” Jazzy leans her head back. “That makes so much sense.”

“Couple of kids with anger management issues,” Eddie mutters from his desk. “The rest of this week will be fun.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adding another chapter because i'm procrastinating

Dancing Spider perches on a lamppost, right sleeve torn off under the second black band. Her arm remains snug in white gauze. Jazzy doesn’t mind, it looks almost exactly like the left side of her suit anyway. Her backpack is slung across her shoulders with a change of clothes along with her wallet inside. She looks up and down the street, mostly ignoring the people looking up and talking about her. Jazzy squints as sunlight bounces off the windows of the skyscrapers beside her. The streets are quiet for a late Thursday morning.

_Harry said...two? I don’t remember, doesn’t really matter._ Jazzy slides down slightly, sitting fully on the lamp with her legs dangling down. _Lunch with Flash in an hour, Dragon Express, not the one in Jubilee._ Jazzy pulls her phone out.

**You ever just want to fling yourself into the sun for no reason?** Jazzy texts her best friend, Taylor.

**All the time** comes the immediate response. Jazzy smiles.

**Wish you could’ve come over this week**

**Same** Jazzy waits a minute or so before he sends another message. **I wouldve brought edibles**

**Fuck that would’ve been amazng** Jazzy looks up and watches the people walking in her direction. **I miss you**

**I miss you too we gotta work smthn out**

**Summer. We can do summer i can get you plane tix**

**You dont have to pay for my shit**

**Never said I was payiing. Harry can get you them**

**Sounds like a solid plan**

Jazzy agrees and a bubble of warmth fills her chest. She takes another break, looking around for any hints of crime, but there aren’t any. She turns her face back down to her phone. **I met this guy earlier this week**

**Oh?**

Jazzy chuckles. **Not like that man. I think he’s my friend now?**

**But is he cute?**

**Cute isn’t the right word** Jazzy types out slowly. An involuntary smirk creeps onto her lips as she pictures Flash in her mind’s eye. **Def attractive not cute** Jazzy allows herself to swing around the lamppost until she’s upside down. **What is with me and having a thing for people with blond hair and blue eys?**

**Because we’re the best type of people**

**Does your hair even count as blond anymore?**

**Rude**

Jazzy stares at the phone screen and continues staring long after it goes dark. _I should tell him._ She shakes her head. _I should not, but why wouldn’t I?_ Jazzy turns her phone on again and types in her message. Her thumb hovers over “send” as all the reasons she shouldn’t tell Taylor run through her mind. _Harry knows, why can’t he? I’ve known him longer._ Jazzy closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her thumb connects with the screen and she opens her eyes to see the blue bubble sitting calmly with such an important message: **I’m Dancing Spider** Jazzy waits too long for Taylor’s response. **Yanno SF spider person she adds after a minute that felt like half an hour had passed.**

**Yeah i know. You’re not the only one with spider powers i got em too**

**I’m sorry what** Jazzy can hear his laugh.

**Had em for a couple years. I never told you?**

**Def not i would’ve remembered**

**Well damn. Yet another thing you’re missing out this week by not coming to see me**

**I know we could’ve killed some assholes together** Jazzy stares at her message and wonders if she would actually kill someone. Not like she hasn’t thought about it a lot. 

Then she thinks about Wolff and she knows the answer to her question. **I’ll ask harry if he’ll buy you tix later**

**Cool. Tell me more about htat guy thats not cute**

Jazzy snorts and gains several concerned looks from passersby. **His names Flash he’s from new york and hes really fucking buff oh my gods**

**Geez Jazzy sounds like you have a crush. You’ve actually talked to him right**

**Yeah i’ve talked to hiim. We’re going to get lunch together in a bit** Jazzy bites her lower lip and swings herself upright. **Don’t have a crush. Not ready for that**

**Yeah i get that. Have fun with lunch i found a sex trafficking ring**

**Kill them dead**

**I fucking will**

Jazzy checks the time and figures she should head over to Dragon Express. She tucks her phone securely in her belt and lifts onto her toes. She glances the area one more time. No sign of crime, so Dancing Spider leaps up onto the lowest building across the street. Jazzy stops on the roof of the building across from one of the multiple Dragon Express’ located throughout San Francisco. Flash is already waiting outside, looking down at his phone and leaning against the wall. Jazzy crouches down. She backs away from the edge of the roof as she unzips her backpack. Once she’s dressed and off the roof, Jazzy walks over to where Flash is still waiting.

“Hey Flash man,” Jazzy greets, looking up at the football player.

He looks up from his phone, turning the screen off and shoving it into his jeans pocket. His usual cocky grin appears. “Hey.”

“I’m not late right?”

“No, no, you’re good.” Flash ruffles his hair for no obvious reason. “More than good.” They maintain eye contact for a moment. “C’mon, food.” Flash opens the door and walks in, holding it open for Jazzy behind him. They join the end of the short queue.

“When are you heading back?” Jazzy wonders.

“Saturday night,” Flash replies. “Why? You gonna miss me?”

Jazzy laughs. “You’re growing on me.”

“Good.” They find themselves at the front of the line waiting for a lineworker to finish with a previous customer. “You paying?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Once one of the employees is free, the two order their food, Jazzy pays, and they find a booth to sit down in. Jazzy breathes in the familiar scent of orange chicken and chow mein before digging in. She’s about halfway through her plate before she looks up at Flash. He’s watching her with a twinkle in his eyes and a forkful of beef making its way to his mouth.

“What?” Jazzy questions, half-heartedly stabbing at a stray piece of chicken.

“Did you not have breakfast? Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat that fast.”

“I had breakfast, just eat a lot.” Jazzy looks down at his plate. A good portion of the meal is gone. “You eat a lot too.”

Flash shrugs. “You work out?”

“Yeah, I dance and, uh, run around...the city…” Jazzy screws up her face. Flash chuckles. “I think I also have a fast metabolism, who knows. Maybe I’ll ask Doctor Dan.”

“You run around the city. What else? Parkour?”

Jazzy snorts. “Maybe, you don’t know.” She raises an eyebrow and bites down on her chicken. “Do you dance or parkour?”

“Nah,” Flash responds, dragging out the vowel and leaning back. “Sports are my thing, football, track, basketball. I don’t dance, but I DJ.”

“Oh? Harry doesn’t tell me anything about his friends.”

Flash laughs, throwing his head back. Jazzy swallows hard as heat rises to her cheeks. “He tends not to, unless it’s about Parker. He didn’t really tell me anything about you either.”

“That why we’re having lunch?”

“If that’s all you want it to be.”

Jazzy blinks slowly before looking down at her plate and twirling her noodles mindlessly. _Can my face get red even though my blood is blue?_ She doesn’t know how to respond.

“If it is, that’s cool,” Flash adds, Jazzy’s awkward silence either lost on him or he’s playing it off as smoothly as possible. Jazzy can’t tell. “Just gotta check all possibilities.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jazzy finds herself saying. She swallows and forces herself to look back up at Flash. “I’m just not looking to mingle right now.”

“Alright, fair enough.”

Jazzy continues eating her food, looking up at Flash every so often. “What’s your last name?”

Flash hastily swallows his food. “Thompson. Yours?”

“Joyce. Gotta love the alliteration.”

“Hey, at least your initials aren’t PP like someone I know.”

Jazzy can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t even realize, oh my gods.” A rather smug look comes across Flash’s face. Jazzy takes a deep breath to calm herself, putting another bite of food into her mouth. “So, what do you wanna do after this?” Jazzy asks, hand covering her mouth.

“I was just thinking we could hang out back at the apartment,” Flash states. “Eddie’s doing whatever until Harry’s interview, so we got the place to ourselves.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Maybe you could show me some dance moves.”

Jazzy bites her bottom lip and looks down at the table. “Maybe I will, or maybe I’ll distract you with more space documentaries.”

“Whatever we do I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because you’ll be there.”

“You’re just a fuckin’ sweet talker, huh?”

“Nah, I just speak my mind.” Flash leans forward. “Mind if I get your number?”

Jazzy raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“So we can keep talking when I go back to New York, that’s why.”

Jazzy nods and takes her phone from her pocket. She creates a new contact and hands it over to Flash. “Just like, text yourself when you’re done.” Flash does and hands it back. “How often do you come here?”

“San Fran?” Jazzy nods. “Whenever Harry and Eddie can get me here and it doesn’t piss my dad off. I also gotta make sure my sister comes with me or goes to hang out with our aunt.” Flash shrugs. “Not that often I guess. I think you should look into coming to New York.”

“Probably,” Jazzy agrees, slouching against the table. “Since both you and Harry are going to be there, and my roommate on most breaks.”

“And maybe you can see Spider-Man.”

Jazzy chuckles. “Why do you like him so much? Do you have a Spidey fan club or something?”

“He’s saved my life a few times, he’s amazing and I look up to him is all,” Flash explains. He grins. “I do have a fan club, Harry’s a part of it. I’m Spidey’s number one fan.”

“I believe it,” Jazzy states. “I mean, if you made a fan club…”

Flash laughs. “Yeah, hey there are worse people to admire. What about you? What superhero do you look up to?”

“Oddly enough, Spider-Man,” Jazzy laughs. “But Captain America and Johnny Storm are up there too.”

Flash snorts. “Storm, huh? He’s not bad, but he thinks he’s better than Spidey.”

“Oh?” Jazzy says, raising an eyebrow. “You know him?”

“Sure, I’ve seen him around, we’ve talked.”

Jazzy hears the sound of sirens in the distance. She looks out the window and takes a moment to think, _Should I go out there and help?_ But she decides against it, not wanting to ditch Flash. _Not like the police can’t handle it._ She finishes off the rest of her food in silence and Flash does the same. “Should we,” Jazzy gestures toward the door, “go do other things?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Jazzy and Flash leave Dragon Express and walk the short distance to Eddie’s apartment. They stroll in a comfortable silence, though Jazzy still feels like she needs to say something. She continuously glances at Flash as they walk, his hands in his pockets as he looks straight ahead. Jazzy has to take rather large steps to keep up with him and his stride. Flash looks down at her and smiles, she smiles back. Her spider sense goes off and she steps closer to Flash to dodge the person walking in her direction.  
The two essentially collapse on the couch when they reach Eddie’s apartment. Flash picks up the remote before swinging his feet up onto the table. Jazzy kicks her shoes off and shoves them under the couch before crossing her legs. She looks over to see Flash aiming the remote at the TV but not pressing any buttons.

“You good?” Jazzy asks.

“Yeah,” Flash responds. “Just wondering if I should even turn the TV on.”

“Why? You’d rather talk to me?” Jazzy jokes.

“Yeah, I would actually,” Flash says, smirking.

“Okay, Thompson, then let’s talk.”

And they do, long enough that they lose track of time, long enough that Eddie comes back from wherever he was. They both greet Eddie before continuing to talk, telling each other stories and asking questions about the other. Jazzy surprised by the ease with which she’s talking to Flash and how willing she is to tell him whatever he wants to know. But Jazzy trusts her gut and her instincts. She even gets used to Flash flirting with her.

“I’m just saying you could transfer to ESU, then we can see each other every day and Harry will be there too,” Flash says.

Jazzy laughs. “But then I won’t have my internship with Eddie. Sorry to tell you, but I have to choose him over you this time, Flash.”

There’s a knock on the door. Eddie gets up from his desk and answers it, allowing Harry to come inside. “Hey guys,” Harry greets. “Sorry to break up...whatever you two are doing.”

“Talking, Harold, we’re talking,” Jazzy tells him. He makes a noise of acknowledgement before sitting down on the couch. She notices Midna nestled in his arms. Jazzy pats the kitten’s head.

Eddie grabs a camera and sets it up on a tripod, checking the angle before taking the armchair. “Think you two can stop talking long enough to get this interview done?” Eddie asks. Flash snorts. Jazzy nods. “Alright, cool. Let’s get started?”

“In a moment. I hope you don’t mind that I brought my cat,” Harry says. “Didn’t want to leave her alone and Felicia isn’t available right now.”

“Felicia the cat sitter,” Jazzy nods. “Does she have cats?”

“At least five.”

“I thought it was more like ten,” Flash says. “Fluffy black cats.”

“It might be ten,” Harry agrees with a shrug. “But I think only half of them are hers and the others are her otousan’s.”

Jazzy looks over at Eddie who’s watching them with a slightly amused expression. “Oh, right, interview.”

“Right, yeah,” Harry says. “Time to spill the tea on my dad.”

“I’ll start the recording,” Flash says, getting up from the couch and to the camera. He presses a button and gives a thumbs-up before sitting down on the hardwood floor.

Eddie looks to the camera. “Eddie Brock here with Jazzy Joyce. Today we’re asking Harry Osborn some questions.” Eddie turns to Harry. “Why’d you agree to this?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Harry replies. “I’m sure I won’t be able to answer all your questions, but there’s definitely some shit that I know about. So, ask away.”

Eddie gestures toward Jazzy. “Okay, Harry,” Jazzy starts. “Do you know why Norman Osborn is restarting the cross-species genetics program?”

“He’s got good intentions with that,” Harry says with a shrug. “Really it’s to help people, but also to make money like everything else. Don’t really understand why, since last time all the radioactive spiders escaped during a high school field trip.”

“What?”

“The spiders used for the first cross-species genetics program escaped while a bunch of freshmen were in the spider room, luckily they all died before anything, uh, bad happened. They weren’t designed to leave their cages.”

“Have you read any of the consent forms for human experimentation?”

“That’s specific,” Harry laughs. “Actually, yeah, I read one recently. Dad wanted to know if I was willing to be experimented on, I said no.”

“Would you say that the consent form would be understandable to everyone?” Eddie asks.

Harry turns to him. “Most of it, yeah, but there were some phrases that even I didn’t understand on the form, which is part of the reason I said no. I even asked my dad what those phrases meant and he told me, ‘Don’t worry about it, son.’”

“What did he want you to volunteer for?” Jazzy questions, eyebrows drawn with concern. “I’m assuming it was after you turned eighteen?”

“Yeah, definitely after my birthday because if it was before he probably would’ve signed it for me,” Harry replies. “It was for his side project that isn’t open to the public.”

“What’s his side project?”

“Oh, uh,” Harry shifts and looks at the table. “My dad’s trying to, well, recreate Captain America’s super soldier serum, and he wanted to test it on people.”

“Has he tested it with the AI and on animals first?”

Harry laughs, borderline hysterical. “I don’t think so, he wouldn’t tell me.”

“Has anybody signed the consent form for this?” Eddie chimes in.

“No, my dad’s really, uh, upset about it. I’ve heard him talking to some of his employees about it. He’s really pushing for volunteers.”

“Does your dad have, ah, any other side projects?” Jazzy asks.

Harry tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Other side projects…” he hums. “Other than the one that he’s going to announce soon, no. That one is for military purposes, high tech armor that self heals and stealthy transportation systems, that sort of thing. Not anything Oscorp hasn’t done before.”

“Do you think,” Jazzy pauses, tapping her thigh, “do you think that he’s designing the armor to work at its full potential for a super soldier?”

Harry’s eyes widen slightly. “Maybe more like a backup plan incase the serum doesn’t work, but I don’t know. I don’t think I’m supposed to even know about the serum, to be honest.”

“Why do you know about it then?” Eddie asks.

“Partly because my dad tried to get me to volunteer,” Harry says. “But also because I, uh, well, I snuck into his office at home and found his notes on it.” Harry runs his hand through his hair. “Honestly I was just trying to get a phone number.”

“Do you trust Norman?” Eddie says. Harry looks at him and they stare at each other for a while. Jazzy glances at Flash and sees him looking more nervous than Harry does.

“Not, not really, no,” Harry finally answers, voice sounding small as he slouches into the couch.

“Why not?”

“He,” Harry cuts himself off. He looks at Flash with fear in his eyes. Flash tilts his head, eyebrows slightly raised. Harry hisses air out between his teeth. “I can’t talk about that right now.” Flash nods and Jazzy wonders what she’s missing. “Can we, can we end here?”

“Sure, Harry,” Jazzy whispers.

“Thanks.”

Flash gets up and turns the camera off, removing it from the tripod and handing it to Eddie. Eddie gets up and walks over to his desk. He walks over toward the couch and claps Harry on the shoulder. “You alright man?”

Harry closes his eyes. “Just need a breather.” He looks over at Jazzy. “I help?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Jazzy sits up straighter. “Okay, one more question, is the super soldier serum green?”

“Mhmm, that vial on his desk at Oscorp? That’s it.”

“Oh my gods, Eddie, my hunch was right,” Jazzy says, turning to her mentor.

“Sounds like it,” he responds.

“Your hunch?” Harry wonders.

“Yeah, I saw the vial and I was like, ‘wow that’s some bad shit right there’ but I couldn’t explain why, yanno.”

“I’ll keep you updated on it, alright?”

“Sure thing, Harry, just stay out of trouble.”

“Harry? Stay out of trouble with his dad?” Flash says incredulously. “I don’t think that’s possible, Jazzy.”


	38. Chapter 38

Jazzy leisurely strolls back to her dorm from the Brock Building grateful that the weather has lost its chilly bite. She has her backpack slung over her shoulders, housing her laptop, notebook, and her spider suit. She hopes she doesn’t have to use it any time soon. Jazzy pulls her hand out of her ratty and torn Green Day sweatshirt pocket and looks at the still injured arm.

“At least most of it is healed,” Jazzy mutters to herself. Another pedestrian gives her a judgemental glance as they hurry past. Jazzy ignores them and shoves her hand back in the pocket. I miss Flash. Jazzy lets out a breath of air in an almost sigh.

Her spider sense goes off with an intense searing pain rattling through her head as Jazzy turns the corner. She immediately steps backward, hiding behind the building she just turned around as an explosion shakes the streets. The heat blasts past her, singeing the tips of her hair and stealing her breath away. Screams quickly follow the explosion causing Jazzy’s head to ring. She presses her back against the wall and takes a deep breath, tuning out the sounds around her.

Once her head has stopped ringing, Jazzy cautiously turns around the corner to find a huge crater in the street with flames licking the buildings and people scrambling away clutched in another person’s arms. Jazzy rushes toward someone as they trip and fall. She picks the kid up and ushers them away from the flames. Her head whips up at the sound of cackling sounding from the sky. Jazzy spots a figure silhouetted by the sun zipping around leaving a trail of smoke behind. Jazzy curses and runs into the nearest alley not on fire. She swings her backpack off her shoulders and around, unzipping it and pulling her suit out. She changes as quickly as she can as the cackling grows closer, getting her mask on first. Jazzy stares at her backpack for a moment before shoving it against the wall and hoping that nothing happens to it. She wallcrawls her way onto a roof and breathes in deep as she gets away from the smoke.

Dancing Spider crouches on the roof, watching the figure circle down from the clouds, cackling intermittently. As the figure grows closer, Jazzy can make out green skin, deep purple cloth, and flashes of gold atop a silver glider. She looks down at the street below and is glad to see it clear of most people. She looks back up at the sky and can make out the face: long hooked nose, huge yellow-orange eyes, and a gnarly grin with pointed teeth. The tingling in her skull comes back as the glider swoops toward her. It only intensifies as it comes closer.

The creature is light green, donned in a violet tunic and phrygian cap with golden pauldrons adorned with large spikes. Leather belts cross its chest and waist, orange faintly glowing orbs attached. Dark green pants and gold plated boots lead to the glider with vicious looking blades protruding from the front. The turbines of the glider glow the same orange as the orbs and leave smoke wafting behind. Jazzy knows the ensemble looks rather silly, but somehow, on this creature, it is one of the most terrifying things she has ever seen.

“Looks like I found a little spider!” it exclaims, voice echoing off the buildings around them.

“Just because I’m short doesn’t mean you have to make short jokes,” Jazzy shouts back. She feels her shoulders tense and rise closer to her ears as her breaths become shallow and much too quick.

The glider stops just out of Jazzy’s reach from the edge of the roof. Jazzy’s spidey sense doesn’t stop with it. “Came out to see my beautiful work?”

“To whomst am I going to credit the beautiful work though?”

“To me of course! The Goblin!”

“I can definitely see that,” Jazzy mumbles. “Alright Gobbie, hate to break it to ya, but breaking things doesn’t make for the best work, especially if people are harmed.”

“What does that matter?”

“You harmed a lot of people with that explosion, man.”

The Goblin makes a noise between a hiss and a growl before swooping down toward Dancing Spider. She flips out of the way, kicking the Goblin in the face as she does.   
The glider spins wildly for a moment, sharp blades coming much too close for Jazzy’s comfort. Goblin stabilizes himself, arms spread out as he turns to face Jazzy again.

“You picked the wrong enemy,” Goblin states, cackling. His hand reaches toward his belt, grabbing one of the glowing orbs. Jazzy’s body moves before she can even register the blaring pain at the base of her skull. The orb soars past her, almost in slow motion, and Jazzy sees the taunting jack o’lantern face etched upon it. An image of the pumpkin lights dangling around Jenny’s body flashes into her mind and she stumbles as she lands on the roof. The pumpkin hits the adjacent building and explodes, the blast knocking Jazzy backward. She watches as the wall crumbles in flames and crashes down to the small alleyway separating the buildings.

_There goes my laptop. Fuck._ Jazzy turns to face Goblin, who is just hovering there unimpressed, same grin on his face. _Is that a mask?_

“Why are you doing this?” Jazzy asks.

“Why wouldn’t I? The daily routine of all these people,” he says with disgust, “is so boring, don’t you think? I thought I’d change it up.”

Dancing Spider leaps toward him, aiming to knock him out with a solid punch to the jaw. Goblin doesn’t move, only tilts his head as Jazzy comes toward him. He grabs her hand and twists it, slamming her to the roof. Jazzy grunts, too surprised to move as the Goblin grabs her neck and keeps her pinned to the ground, gravel digging into her back. She thinks about kicking him away, but the glider’s blades hover a few centimeters over her chest. Jazzy wills herself to stop breathing, just enough oxygen coming in through her spiracles and skin.

The Gobin’s grin shifts into something more like a disgusted leer. His clawed fingers dig into her neck, easily piercing the skin. “Blue blood,” he hums. “Isn’t that intriguing? Just how spider-like are you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jazzy chokes out.

“Oh, but it does, I’d like to know what makes you tick.” Goblin lifts Dancing Spider from the roof, quickly propelling upward in a spiral. Jazzy looks down to the street and the firefighters putting out the flames. She looks back into the malevolent eyes of the creature before her. “I’m going to take you apart.”

Jazzy risks another glance down at the shrinking rooftops. Fuck it. She swings her legs upward, heel connecting with Goblin’s elongated chin. His head knocks backward and his grip loosens enough that Jazzy can wrench his hand away from her neck. Dancing Spider vaults herself off the Goblin’s chest, and begins falling down to the ground. She spreads her arms out and hopes for the best.

_I should invest in a parachute,_ Jazzy ponders while falling toward the cratered street. She closes her eyes as she passes the tallest skyscraper in the area. _If I survive._

A weight slams into her side and something wraps around her torso. Jazzy opens her eyes and realizes that she’s begun to move sideways rather than straight down. She looks at the person that has her in their arms and is surprised to see Black Cat swinging on a chain attached to her belt. It takes a moment for it to click that it’s her tail.  
Black Cat rolls them as they reach the nearest roof, causing Jazzy to take the brunt of the impact. Her shoulder hits first and there’s sickening pop. Jazzy groans and ends up laid out beneath Cat.

“Hey there, Dancer, looked like you needed some help,” she says, lips quirked upwards.

“Yeah, thanks, Cat.”

“What happened?”

“Goblin attacked…” Jazzy trails off. She scans the skies but finds no trace of her assailant. “Why’d you save me?”

“I like you, Dancer, that’s why,” she purrs. “And it would’ve been a shame to have you splatter all over the pavement. Who’s Goblin?”

“I don’t know, not really,” Dancing Spider states. “He’s stronger than me, has bombs, apparently bombed the street for fun.”

“Hmm…” Cat stands and helps Jazzy up.

Jazzy groans. “I think my shoulder is dislocated.” Black Cat doesn’t say anything, merely walks over to her and forces her shoulder back to its regular position. Jazzy bites down on her lip and tastes blood ooze into her mouth. “Thanks. Again.”

“Of course. Watch your back.” She runs and bounds off the building. Jazzy watches her swing away on her extending tail.

Jazzy stands there for a while before making her way to the ruined building. She drops down onto the rubble and searches for her backpack. She finds it, torn open. She fishes out her laptop, but knows immediately that it’s a lost cause. She shoves it back in her bag, checking her clothes next. They’re torn to shreds, except her already ratty Green Day hoodie. Jazzy finds her notebook under her unwearable clothes and sighs in relief.

_Still intact, thank the gods._

She puts on her hoodie and shoves the notebook in her belt. Jazzy zips up the backpack and slings it over her shoulders before leaping toward the Osborn penthouse. She lands on the roof before crawling down to Harry’s window and rapping her knuckles on the ballistic glass. The window opens and Harry just stares at her for a moment before stepping aside.

“So uh, what happened today in the world of Dancing Spiders?”

“Technically only one spider,” Jazzy says as she drops onto the floor and sets her ruining backpack on the couch. “My bag and clothes got torn to hell because half a building got dropped on it. My laptop’s crushed too.”

“I’ll get you a new one,” Harry replies automatically. “Half a building?”

“This...guy, calls himself the Goblin, he might actually be a goblin, bombed a street, then tried to blow me up, but blew up a building instead,” Jazzy explains, removing her mask and shoes. “Do you have, like, clothes I can wear?” She tosses her jacket over her bag. “I can return them if you want.”

Harry shrugs. “You know I don’t care. I’ll just find you something I don’t wear anymore.” Harry disappears into his closet as Jazzy strips out of her suit and wraps herself in her hoodie. Harry comes back out and tosses a pair of sweatpants and a _Star Trek_ shirt at her.

“Thanks, Har,” Jazzy says as she slips the clothes on.

“Yeah, no problem.” Harry sits beside her. “Is your neck bleeding?”

“Yeah, a little, don’t worry about it.”

“Jazzy.” Harry sounds exasperated.

“Really, I’m fine, the cuts will close in like an hour, nothing to worry about.”

“But your burns don’t heal that fast.”

“I don’t know why,” Jazzy admits, “but regular cuts do, so I’m fine.”

Harry stares at her for a moment longer before pulling out his phone. He angles the screen away from Jazzy and taps away. Jazzy’s brows furrow. Harry looks up at her, then back down at the screen once it buzzes. “I’m asking Spider-Man something.”

“I’m sorry, you’re texting Spider-Man?”

“Yup, I know him, please don’t ask why or how, but I wanna see if his burns don’t heal quicker than usual too.” He returns his focus to his phone, sending another message. His phone buzzes. “Okay, apparently his burns heal like his cuts.”

“Weird,” Jazzy mutters. “Harry, I’m confused, why do you have Spidey’s number when he showed up after you moved here?”

“Because I’m just that good at getting guys’ phone numbers,” he says with a cocky smirk. Jazzy laughs and shakes her head. “But really, I’m not telling you because I don’t want to accidentally give away his identity is all.”

“You know who he is.”

“...Shit.”

“No worries, I’m done with questions about him,” Jazzy says with a cheeky grin.

“Can you tell me more about the Goblin?” Harry asks, quiet and slow. “Like, his appearance mostly.”

“He…” Jazzy sighs. “He has green skin, long hooked nose, orange-ish orb eyes,” Jazzy describes, “lovely clawed hands that did this to me,” she adds while gesturing to her neck. “Um, like elf ears? I don’t know how else to describe that. And his teeth, totally jagged and very sharp and pointy.”

Harry shudders. “What else?”

“Purple tunic and Link hat.” Harry snorts. “Some gold armor, a glider, and,” Jazzy takes a deep, shuddering breath, “pumpkin bombs.”

“What’s so bad about the pumpkin bombs? Other than the fact that they’re bombs, obviously.”

“I don’t...I really hate jack o’lanterns,” Jazzy murmurs.

“Why?”

Jazzy screws her eyes shut. “There were, um, jack o’lantern lights in the, the park where Jenny…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”


	39. Chapter 39

“Do you wanna, I don’t know, do something?” Gwen asks Jazzy the next day. “I need to get my mind off the internship.”

“Stress?”

“Oh, so much. Oscorp is intense as hell,” Gwen groans. “Great, but intense.”

“We could hang out at like Jubilee’s or something, maybe you could meet my friends!” Jazzy suggests. “All two of them that are in San Fran right now.”

“And these friends would be…?”

“Harry and Chey. Haven’t seen Chey for a bit,” Jazzy says, shrugging. “I would say Felicia too, but apparently she’s in, like, Paris.”

“Sure, sounds like fun,” Gwen responds with a grin.

“Cool, let me just call them and make sure they can come,” Jazzy says. Gwen nods and Jazzy pulls out her phone. She makes her calls and is overjoyed to hear that they’re both available. Then again, Harry doesn’t really surprise her. _Does he even leave his room that much?_ Jazzy shakes her head and turns to Gwen. “They can come. Chey will be there in about half an hour, so we could walk there.”

“That sounds great,” Gwen states. “What about Harry?”

Jazzy shrugs. “He might already be there for all I know.” Jazzy stands from her chair and grabs her purse. She doesn’t plan on superheroing today. Jazzy slips on a pair of boots and shoves her phone in her pocket. “You have a room key?”

“Yeah.” Gwen holds up the card before putting it into her own bag. She puts on some converse and opens the door. “Lets go.”

They head out and begin the somewhat lengthy walk to Jubilee Plaza. They chat on the way, comparing internships and mentors. Gwen tells her about her friend Billy who lost his arm and how she wants to help him get it back.

“Cross-species genetics,” Gwen states. “Lizard DNA, it could help him.”

“I heard Norman talk about that,” Jazzy states. “It’s not official yet, right? The program being reinstated, I mean.”

“From what I’ve heard, it sounds pretty official to me.” Gwen laughs. “Take that with a grain of salt.”

They arrive at Jubilee Plaza and find Harry waiting by the entrance. “Hey,” he greets. “You’re Gwen, right? I’m Harry.”

“Yup that’s me. Hi Harry,” Gwen responds.

“Hey, man,” Jazzy says. “Guess we’re just missing Miss Sunshine then.”

“Yup. So what do you do, Gwen?”

“I work for your dad actually,” she says. “Bio department.”

“You work at Oscorp?” Harry says incredulously.

“Well, paid internship, so kind of.”

“Huh,” Harry mutters. “Hey Jazzy, I found someone else you can interview.”

“Gwen?” Jazzy wonders. “I mean, yeah I guess, but like, it’s unlikely she knows more than you do, Har. And I think she would like to keep her internship.” Gwen chuckles.

A cab pulls up to the curb and Chey hops out of the back. “Hey guys!” she exclaims when she sees them. She heads over to them. “Hi, I’m Chey,” she says to Gwen.

“Gwen. Hi.”

“Time to go inside and, uh, do things?” Jazzy asks the group. They collectively agree and then head inside. “What do you guys wanna do?”

“We could eat,” Chey suggests. “I haven’t had lunch yet, plus we could get to know each other over food.”

“Well, I’m always down for food,” Jazzy states.

“Sure,” Gwen says. They look to Harry and he shrugs. “Okay, food then.”

The group heads to the food court, separating and finding whichever place suits them best at the moment. Jazzy wanders around before deciding on getting a cheeseburger. She finds the rest of her group once she receives her burger, the three of them already chatting away with Harry telling jokes and making the two laugh. Jazzy sits next to Harry and across from Gwen.

Harry immediately turns to her. “You didn’t tell me Gwen’s dad is Captain George Stacy of the New York police!”

“What?” Jazzy says. “I didn’t know that, I don’t even know who Captain Stacy is.”

“My dad, obviously,” Gwen says, causing Chey and Harry to laugh.

“Why do you know who that is Harry?” Chey chimes in. “Are you a troublemaker?”

“Nah, I’d just leave home without telling anyone and my dad would call the police, they’d come find me and take me home. Got to know Captain Stacy pretty well, and Flash’s dad too.”

“Flash’s dad?” Jazzy inquires.

“Yeah, he’s a police officer.”

“Do I know him?” Gwen wonders.

“Do you know a Harrison Thompson?” Harry responds.

“I do, actually,” Gwen says. “Maybe I’ve met Flash already.”

“I still haven’t,” Chey states. “He was here during break and you guys didn’t invite me over? What is up with that?”

“I think Jazzy wanted Flash all to herself,” Harry snarks.

Jazzy chokes on her bite of burger. “Excuse?” she manages to get out between coughs and chest pounds.

“Or maybe it was the other way around.” Harry shrugs half-heartedly. “Anyway, what have you been up to lately? Both of you.”

“Swamped in math homework,” Chey states. “As much as I like math, I don’t want this much.”

“What’s your major?” Gwen asks.

“Computer engineering, what’s yours?”

“Bio,” Gwen replies. “I’ve been dealing with my internship, Oscorp is really strict, but I’m sure you already knew that Harry.”

“Well it’s run by my dad,” Harry says with a short, bitter laugh.

“Do you and Felicia even go to school?” Jazzy blurts.

Harry looks over at her, taken aback. “I’m home-schooled, pretty sure Fia is too,” he states. “Have been since I got expelled after I moved here.”

“You were expelled?” Jazzy nearly shouts.

“Yeah, stabbed a guy with a pencil.”

“Why?” Chey wonders.

“Oh, yanno,” Harry says, nonchalant, “the voices in my head.” To anyone that doesn’t know, like Gwen and Chey, it would sound like Harry is joking, but Jazzy knows better. “Dad got pissed, hired a bunch of tutors for me, and now my schedule is whatever the hell I want it to be.”

“That sounds pretty good, actually,” Chey says. “But uni is more or less like that.”

“It’s alright, but there’s no electives and I have to participate,” Harry groans. “And I have to focus on shit I don’t want to do.”

“What type of shit is that?” Chey asks.

“Oh, yanno, shit that’ll help me run Oscorp.”

“You don’t want to run Oscorp? What do you want to do?” Gwen wonders, leaning forward.

“I don’t know,” Harry admits. “Never really had a chance to think about it. Maybe...open up a café? A disco?”

“Disco café?” Jazzy suggests with a smirk. Harry snorts. “You don’t have to do what your dad tells you to do, Har. Do what you want.”

“Don’t know how I’d go about that.”

“Well,” Gwen starts. “Sounds like you still want to run a business of some kind, just on a smaller level, you could major in business, tell your dad it’s for Oscorp, but then you do your own thing. Plus, not like you need to work for the money to open up a disco café.”

“I’m gonna be completely honest,” Chey interrupts. “I would absolutely go to a disco café.”

Harry laughs. “At least I know I’ll have one customer.” He looks down at his plate with a soft smile. “Thanks for the advice.”

“No problem, though maybe have a café separate from the disco so you get more customers, or only have the disco open at night,” Gwen says. “What do you think, Jazzy?”

Jazzy hastily swallows her bite of burger. “Roller disco, but yeah only at night. You know a DJ, so that’s something.”

“And another cook,” he says with a well meaning glance at Jazzy. “This actually all sounds like, like a great fucking idea. My dad’ll hate it though.”

“Your life, not his, Harry,” Jazzy says before taking another bite of her burger. Chey reaches across the table and steals a couple of Jazzy’s fries. “Do what makes you happy.”

Harry looks over at her with a wide-eyed expression. “I don’t know what makes me happy,” he says slowly.

“Sure you do,” Jazzy replies. “Do Peter, he makes you happy.” Harry chokes on his soda as Chey wheezes with laughter and bends over the table. Gwen looks between Harry and Jazzy, a mirthful glint in her eyes. Jazzy grins.

Harry pounds his chest a couple of times before saying to Jazzy, “Let’s get tattoos. Not like matching tattoos, but yanno.”

“I’m down,” Jazzy states, “but why?”

“Is this an impulse decision?” Gwen asks tentatively.

“No, I actually thought about this,” Harry says just as Jazzy says, “Yes, absolutely.” Gwen stares at them.

“What are you getting, Harry?” Chey wonders, pushing her empty tray aside and leaning forward. “A disco coffee cup?”

Harry laughs. “I have no idea what that would even look like!” He breathes deeply. “A couple of spiders on my hip bone.”

“Same side as your spider bites or opposite?” Jazzy asks. “That’s important.”

“Opposite, gotta have a balance.”

Gwen rests her chin on her hand with a smile. “Why spiders?”

“I love me some spiders,” Harry says with a shit-eating grin as he glances sideways at Jazzy.

“Why don’t you get them now?” Gwen suggests. “We’ll watch.”

Harry taps his chin, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m okay with that. Jazzy?”

She shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about getting a sun tattoo anyway, for...Rapunzel reasons.”

“Yanno,” Harry says like he’s sharing a secret, “Flash likes Tangled too.”

Jazzy rolls her eyes. “Fucking good. Tattoos?” Harry nods and they all collectively stand, throwing their trash away and piling up their trays. Harry takes the lead, leading them up a couple of floors until they reach the same shop where Harry and Jazzy got their piercings. Chey leads Gwen to the plush couch and Jazzy hears her gasp in surprise.

“I know,” Chey mutters, “best couch ever.”

Harry and Jazzy head up to the counter and are greeted by the same girl as the last time. “Hey, you guys are back,” she greets. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re here to get tattoos this time,” Harry states with a grin.

“Alright,” she says, returning Harry’s smile. “I’ll need your IDs and a reference picture if you have one. It’ll be extra if you want the artist to draw it.” She reaches under the counter and places two identical consent forms in front of them.

Jazzy pulls out her ID and places it next to the piece of paper. She pulls up the sun that she wants on her phone. “How do we, uh, send the photos to you?”

“You can just send it to my phone,” she states. She slides Jazzy’s ID toward her and copies it.

“Okay, cool.” Jazzy taps her screen a couple of times before putting her phone away and filling out the form. Harry follows suit, not saying anything as he reads through the consent form. Jazzy informs her, “I’m getting mine on the inner bicep, pretty small. Harry is getting his on his hip near the bone, I guess small?” Harry nods.

“Is this your first time getting a tattoo?”

“Not mine, I already have two,” Jazzy states. “His first though, unless I don’t know something.”

“I don’t have any tattoos,” Harry confirms. “Our friends can be in the room with us, right?”

“Yeah, totally, moral support is always welcome!” She hands their IDs back. “You’ll be charged afterward. You’re welcome to wait on the couch for now.”

“Okay, thanks,” Jazzy says, going over to the couch and sitting next to Chey. Harry sits beside Gwen. Jazzy sighs. “Man, I love getting tattoos,” she says to the ceiling.

Gwen giggles. “Are we coming in with you?”

“If you want,” Jazzy says with a shrug. “Not a problem if you don’t care about needles or blood.”

Chey shudders. “I think I’ll stay out here.”

The tattoo artist comes and gets them and Gwen follows along. Jazzy decides to go first as Harry leans against the wall and Gwen sits in a metal folding chair. It goes by pretty quick with Gwen and Harry telling jokes, getting along, and Jazzy stares at them instead of at her arm. The artist makes a surprised noise and Jazzy wonders if it has to do with her blue blood, which she admittedly was not thinking about. She barely winces and before she knows it, her tattoo is done and getting wrapped. Harry goes next. He winces a lot more, but holds quite still.

“How did you not wince?” he asks Jazzy.

“High pain tolerance,” she replies.

“Girls tend to have a higher pain tolerance, Harry, don’t worry about it too much,” Gwen adds.

“If you have to,” Jazzy states, “cuss yourself out in your head. It might help.” The artist chuckles.

Harry stays pretty quiet through his tattooing, minus a few noises of pain slipping out from his throat. Jazzy and Gwen try their best to distract him. Jazzy looks down at her new tattoo often, smiling down at it despite its raw edges and blood seeping out. And soon Harry has his first tattoo, a couple of identical black spiders crawling up his hip.

“It looks awesome,” he says. “I’m so glad I got this.”

“Worth the pain?” Gwen wonders.

“Absolutely.”


	40. Chapter 40

“Harry,” Jazzy blurts out once the last of the stupid shark movies they were watching ends. The Osborn hums in response, head tilting in her direction. “Can I stay over for the summer?” His head whips around. “Like during winter break?”

“Here? In the penthouse?” he wonders, gesturing around him. Jazzy nods. “You don’t like my dad…? Where are, where are you gonna keep all your stuff?”

“I’m already renting out a storage unit,” Jazzy chuckles. “And yeah, I don’t like Stormin’ Norman, but he isn’t home much anyway. Just ask? Please?” Harry stares at her for a while before slowly nodding. They fall into a rather comfortable silence as Harry leans his head back against the faux leather couch.

A sigh escapes his lips and Jazzy glances in his direction. “Why don’t you just go home though?” Harry mutters. “I know you get along with your family even if you don’t really, really talk about them.” Jazzy bites her lip and focuses on a spot of the hardwood floor near her left foot.

“It seems wrong, going back without her.”

Harry reaches over and squeezes her left knee. He doesn’t say a word, but Jazzy knows he understands. “I have another question,” he states after awhile. Jazzy nods, prompting him to continue. “What’s the deal with your intern, uh internship?”

“It got extended from the original two months,” Jazzy states. “I think Eddie likes me, as a worker.”

“Extended how much longer?”

“Through the summer because I told him I would just apply for the summer internship, although he did mention that a few more interns are joining.” Jazzy leans against Harry. “Plus, Harry,” she says, “I want to spend more time with you and Midna before you go off to New York. I’ll be lonely without you.”

“But what about your dogs?”

“Oh, I told my parents that I’ll probably stay here this summer, told me they’ll come visit and bring the dogs.” Jazzy sighs. “I wish I could keep Crystal here.”

“You probably could over the summer,” Harry suggests. “My dad can deal as long as she isn’t obnoxious.”

“She’s not, just sleeps most of the time.” Jazzy perks up, hearing the front door open. “I think your dad’s home.”

Harry turns toward the entrance to the second living room. He picks up the remote and turns the TV off. “I’ll go ask him then,” Harry states. “You can come with me or not, doesn’t really matter.”

Jazzy squirms. “Probably best if I didn’t.”

“Okay.” Harry stands up and pats Jazzy’s knee before heading toward the front door. Jazzy waits, tapping her thigh and looking around the room at the various masks hanging up. Their empty eyes seem to follow her, but she doesn’t pay it any mind. She stands up and walks over to the shelf next to the television. She picks up the framed picture and stares at it.

_How have I not seen this before?_

The picture is of a pretty woman with deep black hair and eyes capturing the twinkling joy of her smile. Her hair is pulled back and in her arms is a bundled baby. Norman is next to her, an arm around her shoulders. Jazzy’s surprised to see Norman smiling in the picture as well, though not as widely as the woman.

_This must be Harry’s mom._

Harry comes back into the room and Jazzy carefully puts the picture back down. He opens his mouth but stops when he sees what Jazzy was looking at. “Oh, I see you found my mom,” he states, eyes turning soft. Harry presses his side against Jazzy’s. “The prettiest mom at all my schools,” he chuckles.

“I believe it,” Jazzy whispers.

“You can stay, by the way, with your dog.”

“Oh,” Jazzy breathes. She looks up at Harry whose eyes are still glued to the photo. “I’ll start moving my stuff in, then.”

“Sure thing.” Harry blinks before shaking his head and turning his attention to Jazzy. “Honestly, with how much you come here, I might just put your handprint in the system.” Harry grins and tilts his head. “Dad might not be too happy about that though.”

Jazzy looks back at the picture. “What happened?” she asks before realizing her mouth is moving. Harry’s grin slowly fades. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

“No it’s, it’s fine,” Harry mutters. “Yanno the tree on the balcony,” he says, gesturing in that direction. Jazzy nods. “My mom planted it when I was born and we brought it with us from New York. It was really the only major request I asked my dad.” Harry grabs Jazzy’s shoulder and steers her away from the picture and toward the couch. “The fire started in the middle of the night in the kitchen, and for some reason the kitchen door was locked from the outside and my mom was stuck inside. I woke up, tried getting her out, and I couldn’t, though I did manage to unlock the door. I ended up passing out, the firefighters got me and told me what happened once I woke up in the hospital.”

“Who could’ve locked the door?” Jazzy wonders.

Harry shrugs. “My dad, me, KARI, my mom via KARI.” Harry sighs and runs a hand through his hair before looking at the burn scars. “It wasn’t me, unless I’m forgetting something,” Harry states. “And as much as my dad is probably a sociopath,” Harry starts, “I don’t think it was him because he always seemed so happy around her, yanno? Really the only time I saw him happy.”

“So he’s not, anymore.”

“Absolutely not,” Harry says with a bitter laugh. “I’m not really either, but then again there’s my schiz, so yeah. Oh, and my mom’s death kinda made it, uh, made it trigger, I guess.”

“Really?”

“Sure, traumatic event, I saw her burnt body. Trauma can sometimes, sometimes cause schiz to mani-manifest,” Harry explains. “And then my dad got meaner. I don’t blame him actually. I mean he lost his wife and then I started being more of a trouble, uh, troublesome kid.”

“You saw her body.”

“Sure, I try not to think about it, but you know how my hallucinations can be.”

Jazzy nods and they fall into silence.


	41. Chapter 41

Jazzy whoops as she leaps over the skyscrapers, just having finished her last final and bidding farewell to Gwen for the summer. She cleaned out her room a few hours prior to the test, everything she owns either at Harry’s, in storage, or in her backpack. She jumps toward the building but halts when her the familiar tingle at the base of her skull starts up. The sound of an alarm blares through the street below. Dancing Spider drops her backpack on the roof before jumping down, landing on a lamppost and focusing on the direction of the sound. She finds it coming from a jewelry store. She hops closer just as a torrent of sand bursts through the glass windows. Jazzy shields her face and notices the sparkle of diamonds from inside the moving, writhing mass of sand.

_What the hell?_

“Hey!” she shouts down at the sand, hoping that she doesn’t look as crazy as she feels.

The sand slows, grains moving over one another as it builds into a pile. “What the hell are you?” a deep voice sounds from deep in the mass. The pile grows until the shape of a man forms.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jazzy states.

The sand solidifies, exposing a man with sharp edges and skin that looks like layered sandstone. In his hand are several diamond and ruby necklaces. His brow is set low over his eyes as he glares up at Jazzy. “Leave me alone,” he states.

“No can do, you stole some valuable things, Mister Sandman, I can’t let you take them away.” Dancing Spider leaps down, aiming her foot at his chest. Her foot connects, but instead of knocking him back, her foot begins to sink in, sand crawling up her ankle. Sandman’s torso twists and the sand around Jazzy’s ankle releases her, flinging her through the broken window and into the back wall of the store. She grunts and rubs the back of her head before standing up and lunging back outside, rolling as she hits the ground.

Sand wraps around her body and lifts her up so she’s face to face with the man. His entire bottom half has become shifting sand filled with glittering gems. The sand begins compressing Jazzy’s chest like a boa constrictor. She gasps, spiracles clogged by the sand.

“All you humans are they same,” he snarls, “not caring about anyone but yourselves.”

“Technically,” Jazzy wheezes, “I just want you to give the jewelry back to the owners of the store.”

“Which is run by humans,” he states.

“Oh,” Jazzy draws out, sucking in more air. “You mean we only care about other humans.” Sandman rolls his eyes. “Why come to Earth then?”

“We had no choice.” The sand around Jazzy falls away as the Sandman reverts fully to sand and disappears down the storm drain, taking the jewels with him. Jazzy collapses to her knees and rubs at her chest.

“Who’s ‘we’?” Jazzy mutters to herself. She stands up and shakes the excess sand off her body. She peers down the storm drain, but there’s no sign of the thief. Jazzy leaps back to the roof, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulders before continuing on her way to the Osborn penthouse.

Win some, lose some, Jazzy thinks to herself. _I seem to be losing a lot lately._ Jazzy sticks to the side of the skyscraper before crawling around and rapping on Harry’s window. The pane opens and she slips inside. “Do you know what hurts sand?” Jazzy asks, removing her mask and shaking the sand out of the window.

“What?”

“I just fought a Sandman,” Jazzy states, “can’t really touch him because, well, he’s made of sand.”

“Heat him up, turn him to glass,” Harry states. “Other than that I have no idea.”

“I don’t want to turn him to glass, might kill him,” Jazzy says. “And that would take a lot of heat right?”

“I guess, science isn’t really my thing.”

Jazzy unzips her backpack and quickly shucks off her suit and changes into something more comfortable. She leaves Harry’s room and goes to the guest room, tossing her bag onto the bed and stares at the boxes pushed against the wall. She sighs and shuts the door. Jazzy is about to head back to Harry’s room when Norman emerges from his bedroom. Jazzy does a double take.

“Hi, Mister Osborn,” she greets with her eyebrows drawn together.

“Joyce,” he replies, briskly walking past her, not even bothering to look at her. He’s almost at the end of the hallway when he stops and looks back at her. “Whatever happens while you are here,” he says, “you will not tell Brock about it.”

A faint tingle vibrates through her skull. “Okay, I understand, sir,” she responds. Norman nods and leaves the hall. Jazzy enters Harry’s room, occasionally looking back toward the hallway. “I can never tell when your dad is threatening me,” Jazzy says, causing Harry to turn around.

“He’s probably threatening you.”

“Good to know.” Jazzy’s spider sense goes off, banging around her head like a church bell. She lets out a weak gasp before curling in on herself, hands to her head, and dropping to the floor.

Harry is by her side in an instant, crouched down beside her. “Jazzy! What’s wrong, what’s happening? Does it have to do with sand?”

His voice is far away, drowned out by the ringing in her ears. She barely registers the ridiculousness of his last question. Jazzy’s eyes snap up to him. “Spider-Man’s in danger,” she whispers.

A look of unbridled fear passes through green eyes. “How do you know that?”

“I can,” Jazzy breathes in shakily, “I can feel it.” She groans. “I don’t know what to do, but I need it to stop.”

Harry gets up and walks out of Jazzy’s line of sight. There’s the ringing of his phone, but no one picks up. “Shit.” Harry comes back over, squatting low. “Did my dad leave?”

“I-I think so.”

Harry pats her back. “I’ll be right back.” He leaves the room.

Jazzy falls onto her side, curling into the fetal position, head locked between her knees as the pain only intensifies. She can’t get air to travel through her trachea as the same unworded message plays in her mind, _Spider-Man is dying._

Harry returns within a few minutes, sitting at Jazzy’s side. His phone is ringing again, but this time someone answers. Harry puts it on speaker. “Hi, this is Harry Osborn,” Harry rushes to say.

“What? How’d you get my number?” a familiar voice responds. “Why are you calling me?”

“Doesn’t matter how I got your number,” Harry mutters, Jazzy can tell how panicked he is. “It’s about Spidey.”

“Yeah? What about him?” the man on the other end replies, voice edging hostile.

“He’s in danger.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but Dancing Spider, yanno the other spider person, says that he’s in danger and I’m inclined to believe her and I know you care about Spider-Man enough that you’ll at least check to see if what I’m saying has any ounce of truth to it.”

There’s silence on the other end.

“He’s _dying_,” Jazzy hisses out.

“Dancing Spider? How do you know that?”

“I can _feel_ it, my spider sense is telling me as much.” She whimpers and curls tighter. “Trust--_fuck_\--trust the spider sense.”

“Please, Mister Stark, do something, I’m begging you,” Harry pleads.

“I already am,” Tony Stark replies. “And you tell me if this happens again, only if you’re right this time.”

“Okay,” Jazzy whispers. The call disconnects and the two teenagers wait in silence for nearly an hour longer before the pounding in Jazzy’s skull subsides. She gasps, spine straightening out.

“What? Everything okay?” Harry asks, frantic.

“I-I don’t know,” Jazzy admits. “He’s not dying anymore, which means he’s either been helped or he died.” Jazzy chokes on the last word.

Harry’s hands begin shaking and he looks like he wants to say something, but no words come out of his mouth. He looks down at his phone for a second before unlocking it and quickly typing a message to someone. He keeps his wide eyes trained on his phone as Jazzy manages to sit up, a headache still raging through her head. His phone beeps and Harry sobs.

“Oh thank god,” he exclaims, pressing his forehead against his phone. “He’s still alive.”

Jazzy sighs in relief, a weight that she wasn’t aware was there rises from her shoulders. “I’m glad.”

“Me too,” Harry breathes. He closes his eyes briefly sighing. “How’d you know?”

“Spidey sense,” she replies. “I can’t explain it any other way.”

“Doesn’t that only warn you of danger to yourself?”

“I thought that too.”


	42. Chapter 42

Jazzy can’t help but snoop around the Osborn household. With all that she’s learned while working for, sometimes with, Eddie, she can’t not be curious about what secrets Norman Osborn keeps. Lately, they’ve been trying to figure out if the gangs are getting guns directly from Oscorp or someone who just resells the weapons. Maybe Norman has something hidden away.

She starts as sneakily as she can, checking the backs of the masks and around the various sculptures laying around the penthouse. Jazzy never touches anything, knowing that some smudge will be left behind and, no matter how small the smudge, Norman will find it and she’ll get kicked out. There doesn’t seem to be anything suspicious about the art pieces anyway, just incredibly expensive. Though she does shine a blacklight on everything just to make sure.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks as he watches Jazzy peer behind what looks to be a Grecian urn.

“Would you believe me if I said I was admiring the piece?” Jazzy responds, not looking up from her surveying.

“No.”

“That’s fair.” Jazzy straightens up and looks at Harry. “I’m checking to see if your dad hid anything mysterious around the artwork.”

“Why?”

“He said not to touch the artwork, so maybe something is there.”

“I think you’re stretching things, Jazz.”

“Yeah, probably, but it’s not like I can just go through his desk or sneak into his office and bedroom without him noticing,” Jazzy states. “I’m just trying to find things.”

“You, uh, you probably could, actually,” Harry mutters. “Not his bedroom, but the office.” Jazzy gives him a questioning look. “That’s how I got, I got Tony Stark’s, uh, number.”

“You snuck into his office.”

“Well, more like walked in, since he wasn’t home, but I went on his computer and everything.”

“Doesn’t he have, I don’t know, a password?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugs. “Peter figured it out and it’s surprisingly not a good password. It’s just my name.”

Jazzy stares at him. “You’re shitting me.”

“Kinda wish I was, honestly.” Harry slings and arm around Jazzy’s shoulders. “But how about you don’t snoop for at least a month.”

“Okay, I can do that. Hopefully.”


	43. Chapter 43

Jazzy goes out that night, keeping herself busy with patrol so she doesn’t act on the overwhelming urge to sneak into Norman’s office. She bounds over the city, breathing in the salty air. The stars shine above her as street lamps shine on the ground below.

Jazzy halts on a rooftop in the heart of the city, closing her eyes as she perches precariously on the edge. She breathes in deep and holds it. Her eyes open when she hears a couple of voices scream in the distance, high and scared. Jazzy heads in that direction as quickly as she can, not knowing how close they are.

She finds herself in a rundown building, though clearly lived in by squatters. Jazzy’s glad that she can still hear the screams, knowing that people are still alive. She crawls quietly along the ceiling, peering into each room. Occasionally she’ll see people cowering in the corners, whimpering louder when Jazzy opens the door. The people will relax minutely when they see it’s just Dancing Spider, and she’ll move on to the next room.

She knows she’s found the source when she reaches the back of the building. Jazzy stares at the back of a huge, hulking figure darker than the shadows around her with thin veins of white crawling over its shoulders and arms. Her breath catches in her throat as the monster lifts a man up, leaning its head back, jaw filled with needle-like teeth unhinging. Jazzy can see the pure white eyes, the little light in the room reflecting off of them like opals. The clawed hand draws the man closer to its mouth as he continues to scream, squirming in the monster’s grip. A long, slimy red tongue licks across the man’s face leaving a trail of drool.

Jazzy opens her mouth to shout, but only a squeak comes out. The creature’s head turns slightly toward her before a black tendril shoots from its back, straight toward her. Dancing Spider flips off the ceiling and onto the wall as the tendril rains plaster down. A low, raspy growl emanates from the monster as Jazzy leaps toward it. It grabs her around the neck and she’s helpless as she watches it shove the man’s head in its mouth and close its jaws around his neck. There’s a sickening crunch as the skull is crushed in its jaws, blood spilling out of the neck. The monster turns toward Jazzy, tossing the body aside and threatening grin coming across its inhuman face. Its long tongue lolls out, licking away the blood and bits of flesh between its plethora of teeth.

“Venom,” Jazzy states, hands clawing at the huge arm holding her.

**“Dancing Spider,”** Venom responds. Its voice is deep and rasping, vibrating in Jazzy’s chest. **“They all deserved it.”**

“All?” Jazzy looks around and finds many more headless bodies strewn around. She closes her eyes and takes a shaky breath, a feeling like molten lead coming up her throat. “Who would deserve this?”

**“Murderers.”**

“You’re one too.”

**“Not the same, we only hurt bad people.”**

“How are you so sure?”

**“We watch them do bad things, we know.”** Venom lets her go and she lands gently on her feet. **“You are not bad.”**

“You ate people.”

**“Food. Fuel in the tank.”** Venom walks past her, heading toward the exit.

Jazzy shakes her head. “Where do you think you’re going? I can’t let you leave.” She jogs to keep up with him, ending up on the wall and crawling alongside so they’re at eye level. “You killed people! Bit their heads off! I’m probably going to be scarred for life!”

**“You will be fine,”** Venom states with a flash through the eyes that looks like its equivalent of an eye roll. **“We will continue to eat.”**

“You’re going to kill more people tonight?”

**“No.”**

“I want to talk to you more.”

**“We don’t talk to people.”**

“Not even Eddie Brock?”

Venom’s head turns toward her, white eyes narrowing. **“Do you know Eddie?”**

“I do,” Jazzy replies, knowing she’s walking on thin ice. “He told me he knows you.”

Venom halts, eyes continuing to narrow. A silence falls between them and Jazzy can’t help but narrow her own eyes under her mask. **“Clearly we have.”**

“Sorry?”

**“Not talking to you,”** Venom growls. A longer silence than the first. **“Jazzy?”**

Jazzy goes rigid, fingers tensing and cracking the wall’s plaster beneath her. “Excuse me?”

**“That is who you are,”** Venom states, sounding incredibly sure of itself. **“Who else would know what Eddie has said about us? Other than Flash and Harry.”**

“Maybe one of them told me.”

**“You said that Eddie told you.”**

Jazzy silently curses, knowing that she dug herself too deep. “You could still be wrong, maybe Eddie has told more people than just those three.”

**“He has not, I know him better than anyone.”**

Jazzy feels her head spin as Venom refers to itself as “I”. She stares, unsure what to say. Venom continues out of the building. It takes Jazzy a moment to realize the monster isn’t still in front of her. She rushes out of the building and onto the roof, looking around for it. Venom is nowhere to be found. Jazzy groans.

_Maybe I should go talk to Eddie, see what he has to say._

Jazzy nods and heads in the direction of the Osborn penthouse. She slips in through her window and quickly changes into a pair of sweats and graphic T-shirt. She slips on some boots, grabs her phone, and heads out. Jazzy leisurely makes her way to Eddie’s apartment. She knows that he’s probably awake.

Jazzy knocks on the door to Eddie’s apartment, listening to rock music quietly playing from the room across the hall. Eddie opens the door after a couple of minutes.

“Jazzy, why are you awake?” Eddie asks, though he doesn’t sound surprised. “Come in.” Eddie steps aside.

“Didn’t feel like sleeping,” Jazzy responds. “Wanted to come talk to you about Venom.”

Eddie makes a noise of surprise. “Yeah? Why?”

“I, uh, met it tonight,” Jazzy states. “When I was out.”

Eddie stares at her and scratches the back of his mussed hair. “Out...as in fighting crime?”

“What? I’m not a vigilante!” Jazzy laughs weakly, looking away from Eddie. She looks back over at him to find his eyebrows raised. “Why would you even think that I was fighting crime?”

“A few reasons,” Eddie states. “Your girlfriend was murdered.” Jazzy grimaces. “You’re going to be an investigative journalist, you’ve run into both Electro and Venom, the latter of which is incredibly elusive, and you treated a lightning strike like it was nothing.”

“You don’t seem to have any trouble finding Venom.”

“Because I know where to look.”

“How would I even fight crime? I’m just...me.”

“Or maybe you aren’t,” Eddie says. “Dancing Spider.” Jazzy doesn’t bother to respond, just goes and sits down on the couch. “Shows up almost as soon as you move here. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah? Shouldn’t you though?”

Eddie sits in the armchair. “You’re not a murderer, or a rapist, or anything else like that, so I don’t have a reason to.”

“So you just, what, figured this out by yourself? Not surprising, since you are a journalist and that’s your job.”

Eddie laughs. “More or less, Venom confirmed it.”

Jazzy’s head snaps up. “That means you would have seen it tonight. When? I saw Venom only an hour ago.”

Eddie shrugs but doesn’t offer an explanation. “We’re...close.”

“What does that mean?”

“Better if I don’t talk about it.”


	44. Chapter 44

“Do you follow international news?” Jazzy asks Harry a couple of weeks into their summer vacation. Her laptop is resting in her lap with a paused video on the screen. Harry looks at her. “‘Cause like, water monster and sorcerer in Venice. Isn’t Peter there?”

Harry’s eyes widen slightly, pausing his game as he scoots closer to Jazzy on the couch. “Water monster? What?”

“Yeah.” Jazzy turns her laptop slightly, starting the video at the beginning. The footage plays with English captions on the bottom. The vague shape of a faceless man made of water towers over the buildings. It reminds Jazzy of Sandman. A man with what looks like a fishbowl over his head swoops into the frame, blasts of green smoke shooting from his hands and blasting the monster back. Jazzy pauses the video again as the sorcerer is flying away.

“Shit, alright,” Harry states, slumping back into the couch as he takes his phone out and calls Peter, holding the device up. His face shines back at them before Peter’s takes over the screen. He’s in a dingy hotel room.

“Hey, man,” Peter greets. “What’s up?”

“Everyone okay?” Harry asks.

“Oh, the water thingy and Mysterio,” Peter mutters. “You watch the news?”

“Eh,” Harry shrugs, turning the camera toward Jazzy. She waves. “She does.”

“You’re calling fishbowl guy Mysterio? Is that his name?” Jazzy wonders.

“Some of my classmates decided to call him that since the news people called him l’uomo di misterio and they took it as his name is Mysterio,” he says, a perfect accent and smooth transition into his Italian. Peter’s lips twitch. “Flash still likes Spidey better, even though Mysterio saved our lives. Em-Jay called him out on it.”

“There something wrong with Flash liking Spidey?” Jazzy says.

“Nope,” Peter replies. “It’s just funny, Harry knows why.”

“Does Em-Jay know why?” Harry wonders.

Peter’s cheeks turn red and he looks away from them. “Well, no, I don’t think so.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I haven’t, uh, told you my plan, have I? It might be all screwed up now though, because the water guy.”

“You haven’t told me,” Harry confirms. “What’s your secret plan, Peter Parker?”

“So, um,” Peter’s face gets redder, “I bought this necklace…” there’s a bit of rummaging before pulling out a black glass flower on a silver chain, “for Em-Jay.”

Jazzy looks over at Harry and is surprised to see a neutral yet excited look in his eyes and a smile tugging at his lips.

Harry tilts his head. “When are you gonna give it to her?”

“Well, if we’re still going to Paris, which we might not, I want to give it to her at the top of the Eiffel Tower and, I don’t know, um, tell her that I really like her,” Peter explains, putting a lot of space between his words.

Jazzy shuts her laptop and sets it on the armrest. “Good luck, buddy.”

“Thanks, I need it.” There’s the sound of a door opening and closing. “Oh, I gotta go guys, bye Harry, can’t wait to see you in a couple months. Bye Jazzy.”

“Bye Peter, don’t die,” Jazzy says with another wave.

“See ya, Pete,” Harry says. “You got this man.”

“Thanks.” Peter hangs up. Harry tosses his phone aside.

“You good?” Jazzy asks.

“I did tell you he doesn’t like me back,” Harry says with a smile, though there are tears welling in his eyes. “At least I know he’ll be happy, ‘cause Em-Jay likes him back.” He shrugs and tilts his head back. A tear drips down his face.

“Hey,” Jazzy whispers, slipping an arm under Harry’s head and around his shoulders. “I know it’s rough, but you can get through this, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, course I can.” Harry sits up and turns, wrapping his arms around Jazzy and squeezing tight. Jazzy squeezes back, lightly. He pulls back. “I know it’s probably too soon, but do you like anyone?”

Flash’s face comes to mind; his cocky grin beaming down at her in Jazzy’s mind’s eye. She shakes her head. “Not to be overly dramatic, but I don’t think I can ever love again.”

Harry snorts. “Well, can’t blame you.”

“I know it’ll probably change and all, but still.” Jazzy hums. “Flash is hot though. Like, really hot.”

Harry laughs, flopping backwards. “I’m gonna tell him that.”

“Go ahead, I’ll beat you to it.”

Harry grabs his phone. “Okay, go.”

Jazzy rolls her eyes as she opens her messenger on her laptop, quickly sending to Flash, **You’re really hot man** then sends another saying, **please tell me I todl you faster than harry**

Her phone pings almost immediately. **Faster than harry by 1 sec and your real hot 2**

“Ha! I told him first!” Jazzy exclaims. She stares at Flash’s response. **You okay? Not hurt by water guy?**

He responds with a picture of himself shirtless in bed, smiling lightly. There are dark circles under his eyes, but otherwise he looks like he did when Jazzy met him. **Do i look hurt? Nah, im fine**

**Good you look good**

**I always do.** Jazzy’s fingers hover over her keyboard, unsure what to respond with. The typing bubble shows up under Flash’s name and she waits. **Eddie told me you met venom how was that**

**Venom ate a guy right in my face**

**Oof thats rough**

**Yeah oh well. How’s venice?**

**Lolol its been pretty fun but the hotel sux and everyone thinks mysterio is cooler than spidey now**

Jazzy laughs and Harry looks over at her. “Are you taking Flash’s attention away from me?” Harry asks.

“I guess I am,” Jazzy states. “Probably ‘cause he thinks I’m hot too.”

“Psh,” Harry responds, rolling his eyes, “not like he isn’t attracted to me.”

Jazzy raises an eyebrow. “That right? Is he?” She types out and sends, **Harry is claiming you think hes hot too**

He is comes the immediate response. **Dont tell him but i think your hotter**

**Fucking good i am**

**But serious question you think mysterio is better than spidey or nah**

**Don’t know much about mysterio so i’m more inclined toward spidey** Jazzy stares at the screen, a notification popping up in the corner indicating a file attachment from Eddie. **Get some sleep Flash** she sends before checking out what her mentor sent her.

It’s a picture of her as Dancing Spider getting flung by the Sandman. **What is this?** Is the message Eddie sends along with it.

**Sandman. he robbed a jewelry store**

**You going to track him down?**

Yeah Jazzy scratches her knee. She clicks on the picture and zooms up on the Sandman’s face. She turns her laptop toward Harry. “Have you seen this guy before?”

Harry looks up. “Why do you ask?” He peers at the picture. “Sandman?” Jazzy nods. Harry hums. “No, haven’t seen that type of alien either. You gonna go after him?”

“Yeah, taking down crime and all that, see if he’s working for anybody,” Jazzy says. “He went down a storm drain, which isn’t very helpful.”

“Maybe you have to do that thing in movies and wait until he attacks a few more places then draw lines through them to see where they all intersect,” Harry suggests. “Or just don’t stop him and follow him after an attack.”

“I don’t know if I’d call them attacks,” Jazzy says. “He didn’t hurt anyone, except me, but that was more self defense I think. But yeah, I’ll try that map thing.”


	45. Chapter 45

Dancing Spider sits on the edge of Jubilee Plaza, swinging her legs as the sun sets and a few stars begin to twinkle high above. A few people pass by, murmuring behind their hands. Some people come up and ask for a picture, which she happily obliges to; it’s not anything weirder than people asking to take pictures of you at a comic con. Jazzy sees a flash of an explosion on the horizon before she feels the vibrations. She sighs as she stands up, already knowing who it is.

_Fucking Goblin can’t let me have a nice night._

She jumps toward the sight of fire and smoke rising into the air and ruining her picturesque sunset. Jazzy skids to a halt at the edge of the smoking street. She scans the skies for the Goblin but doesn’t find him She breathes in deep before jumping down and searching for any stragglers left behind. Jazzy finds several people coughing or knocked unconscious under a crumbling building. She hurries towards them as the building begins to collapse. Dancing Spider wedges herself under the skyscraper as some of the people scream. The building stops moving and Jazzy groans under the weight.

“I got it, go on, get out of here, take the unconscious people with you,” she tells the civilians.

“Thank you,” a few of them murmur before following her instructions.

“No biggie, I got super strength,” Jazzy states, tilting her head just slightly. She hears people running inside the building and prays that she can hold it up long enough for everyone to get out of harm's way. Bits of concrete crumble around her as Jazzy shifts the building on her shoulders. All the people underneath it make it out and disappeared in the smoke. A few of the streetlamps weakly flicker on as the sun disappears behind the buildings. Someone runs past her. “Hey!” she calls out. The person stops and looks back at her. “Did you come from this building?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, did everyone make it out?”

“Yeah, yeah I think so,” they reply, eyes wide with fear.

“Thanks,” Jazzy says. “Get someplace safe, preferably far away from here, okay?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” They start staggering away, moving as fast as they can.

“Now how the hell am I going to set this down?” Jazzy mutters to herself.

“You could always just let it go,” a strong voice suggests. “Crush yourself.” The Goblin lowers into Jazzy’s line of sight, unblinking stare on her.

“I’d rather crush you,” Jazzy huffs, her muscles beginning to strain.

“Well that’s not very hero-like.”

“Never said I was a hero,” Jazzy says. She shoves the weight upward before bolting out of the shadow of the building. She leaps and sticks onto the building across, shielding her face as the skyscraper hits the ground and sends up a cloud of dust along with a booming crash. Goblin disappears from sight. Jazzy coughs as the dust gets in her mouth and nose. The dust clears just as the Goblin swoops toward Jazzy. She manages to dodge the glider’s blades as it slams into the building, but finds herself pinned by the Goblin’s arms. Sharp blades between his knuckles glint menacingly near Jazzy’s eyes.

“Poor spider stuck to a wall,” he says in a sing-song voice.

“What’s your deal, man?” Dancing Spider rasps. He presses his arm further into her neck. One of the blades slides across Jazzy’s cheek, slicing through the mask and her skin. She sucks in a sharp breath. “Are you even human?”

“Doesn’t matter what I am,” Goblin responds. “I am Goblin, and you are just a tiny spider to be squashed.”

“Okay but why?”

“You’re in my way,” Goblin sneers then throws his head back as he cackles, the chilling sound echoing off the buildings and ringing through Jazzy’s mind. The blade sinks deeper into her cheek. His arm comes away from her neck and Jazzy slides down the wall slightly. She watches as Goblin lifts the blade to his mouth and licks Jazzy’s blood.

Jazzy screws her face up as a multitude of negative emotions run through her. “Yo, Gobbie, what in the _fuck_?!” She wants to vomit.

“This is what I need.” Goblin turns and begins to fly away.

Jazzy startles. “Nuh-uh! You ain’t getting away from me again!” She jumps after him, twisting in midair and kicking him square in the back, not even bothering to lessen her hit. Jazzy feels something pop or crack under her foot before Goblin is thrown into a wall. Dancing Spider sticks above him, crawling down so their eyes are level. She grabs his shoulders, pinning him down and feeling her fingers dig into his skin. He groans and pops his neck but looks up at Jazzy with the same grin on his face.

“You can’t make me bleed, you’re not strong enough,” he laughs.

“I can try,” Dancing Spider growls in response. She grips harder, digs her fingers deeper, but she doesn’t feel his skin give way to flesh and blood and bone. Jazzy grits her teeth.

“Told you,” he says as his grin widens.

Jazzy’s head screams at her as the Goblin’s glider detaches from its owners feet and zooms straight toward her lower back. Dancing Spider flips over it and onto the street. Goblin is in front of her in a split second, tossing blades toward Jazzy, she flips through the air, easily dodging them all. Goblin throws a bomb at her, but she manages to kick it back toward him. It explodes next to his face, but when the fire clears, all that’s changed is his grin replaced by a sneer. Jazzy’s eyes widen and she freezes.

“_What_ are you?”

“The best of humanity.”

They stare each other down, neither making a move, just the slow swaying of the glider. Jazzy glances down at her belt, the iridescent fabric shifting in the light of the stars and scattered flames.

_Oh right, I can hypnotize people._

She shifts her leg into a more comfortable starting position, watching to see if the Goblin will react. He doesn’t, so Jazzy matches her sway with the glider’s. She closes her eyes and lets her body move to the first song she can think of. She opens her eyes to find the Goblin lowering to the ground, glider’s engines flickering into lifelessness. Once he hits the ground, Jazzy saunters up to him and punches him in the gut. Goblin’s body bends in half, but his facial expression shows no pain. Jazzy kicks him to the ground, quadruple zip tying his arms behind his back.

_Probably won’t hold. I need something better._ Dancing Spider keeps her foot on the Goblin’s back as the sounds of sirens grow closer. _About damn time._ She waits for the police to show up along with several journalists. They swarm around her asking questions, Eddie among them.

“Wow, hey, let the police take this guy out of here,” she says, gesturing down to the Goblin. She feels his muscles shift under her thin shoe. She hoists him up by the zip ties, and stares at his blank face. His eye twitches as her spidey sense starts going haywire. She looks down at his feet and sees a pumpkin bomb blinking. “Shit!” she yells, picking it up and throwing it straight up where it explodes over the lower skyscrapers. She glances around, glad to find that no one got hurt, then she realizes that Eddie has disappeared from the crowd. Her breath comes out in heavy puffs as her spidey sense continues to blare in her skull, causing her head to spin with the combined shouts of the newscasters.

Jazzy hears a snap and turns, feeling too slow, as the Goblin grabs the two closest people and hops onto his glider, flying upward. “Move!” she shouts as she runs forward, the people parting around her like water. She jumps up, managing to stick herself to the back of the Goblin glider. The heat from the engines feels like fire, but she hoists herself up.

“Are you going to tell me to let them go?” Goblin asks.

“No, I’m not stupid, you’ll do that and then they’ll die.”

Goblin tsks. “A shame, I would’ve liked to see that.” He grins. “How about I let them go anyway?”

“Wait!”

But the Goblin opens his hands and his hostages fall straight down. Jazzy curses and jumps down after them. She quickly grabs one, but the other is falling too fast for her to catch up.

_I really need a parachute._

A shadow cross past her, grabbing the other person, causing them to disappear. Jazzy makes a noise in the back of her throat. The shadow then comes up to meet her, pools of white staring at her, grabbing her and the man in her arms and pulling them to the nearest roof. Dancing Spider lets go of the man when they hit solid ground, intact. She finds the other person and they both take one look at their savior and rush toward the roof access door.

“Venom, thanks,” Jazzy says.

**“You are welcome.”**

Jazzy looks back up, but the Goblin is gone again. “Shit.”

**“You thought he wouldn’t go without a fight.”**

“I thought he was hypnotized and could _only_ go without a fight,” Dancer says, frustration seeping into her voice. “It’s never worn off before.”

**“You’ve only tested on humans.”** Venom’s voice somehow sounds more human and very familiar.

“He is human, so he said,” Jazzy growls. “I need to get him, or he’s going to kill someone. That someone might be me.”


	46. Chapter 46

“Happy Birthday!” Harry exclaims as Jazzy emerges from her room and enters the kitchen. “Making you some breakfast potatoes since you like those so much.”

“Thanks Harry,” Jazzy responds with a smile. She sits down at the island. “Did you get me a gift? Because if you did, I don’t know how you’re gonna outdo yourself with that motorcycle.”

Harry turns the burner off and spoons the cheesy potatoes onto two separate plates. “Haven’t gotten it yet, I need you to come with me,” Harry says, putting a plate in front of Jazzy as he sits beside her. Midna hops onto the counter and lays down, staring at their food, tail flicking from side to side. The kitten lets out a small mewl. “Hey,” Harry mutters to his cat, scritching her behind the ears.

“Where are we gonna go?” Jazzy asks around a mouthful of potato.

“That’s a surprise,” Harry says with a cheeky grin. Jazzy playfully rolls her eyes and they eat their breakfast in silence, occasionally having to push Midna away from their plates. Harry takes their plates and forks when they’re done, putting them in the dishwasher. “C’mon, let’s go get your present.”

“Okay,” Jazzy agrees, patting Midna before she stands up and goes to her room, grabbing a pair of sandals and her purse. She carries her sandals back to the kitchen where Harry is waiting, then they walk to the front door where they both put their shoes on. Midna perches on the bench by the door, looking up at Harry expectantly.

“Sorry, Midna,” Harry says, “you can’t come with.”

They head down to the building’s garage and Harry leads Jazzy to a sports car rather than the usual limo. KARI drives them to the outskirts of the city and to a large open property with a nice house and a few sheds. Jazzy hears the sound of barking. She straightens up in her seat and looks wildly outside. A bunch of dogs are running around in the fenced fields, playing and barking. Some of the dogs come up to the fence and bark at them as they pass.

“Are you getting me a dog?!” Jazzy shouts, spinning to face Harry. “Oh my fucking gods! You’re getting me a dog!”

Harry laughs and the car stops. “Yup, a dog, come choose one.” He gets out of the car and Jazzy follows. He knocks at the front door and they are greeted by a kind looking lady with her brown hair in a messy bun.

“Hi, you must be Harry and Jazzy,” she greets. “Come on in.”

They follow her into the house where Jazzy’s nose is greeted by the familiar scent of dog. They’re led to a large living room where the dog lady excuses herself as she goes to get some puppies. Jazzy takes Harry by the shoulders, shaking him with wide eyes and a beaming smile. He laughs as the woman comes back with several puppies in her arms, trying to climb over each other as she sets them down on the wooden floor.

“What kinds of dogs are they?” Jazzy asks.

“They’re all wolfdogs, Harry said you’d want one.”

Jazzy looks over at her friend. “Because you want me to name the dog Link,” she says. He shrugs in response and picks up a puppy as it comes over. “Gods, I want them all,” Jazzy murmurs as a puppy crawls into her lap. Jazzy spends about an hour playing with all the puppies before she finally decides on one. She picks him up and looks in his sleepy brown eyes with his still floppy ears. His soft tongue licks her nose. “I want this one,” she says.

“Oh, she makes a decision,” Harry exclaims. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’ve bonded with him.”

“I think you bonded with all of them.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Harry turns to the seller. “How much?”

“Three hundred,” she replies.

Jazzy whistles, gaining the attention of half the puppies. “Glad I’m not playing,” she states.

Harry pays and they receive paperwork, including a list of all the vaccinations he has already gotten. Then they head back to the car, Jazzy keeping her new puppy on her lap, hand constantly running over him.

“You’re naming him Link right?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, course. He looks like a Link too.” Jazzy looks down at the puppy. “Hi Link!” Then she looks over at Harry. “Wait, where am I keeping him after summer?”

Harry shrugs as KARI pulls away from the dog house. “I don’t know, you could smuggle him into your dorm like I’m doing.”

“Yeah, but he’s probably going to end up being like over forty five kilos,” Jazzy states. “You can’t exactly hide a big dog in the dorms.”

“Clearly, neither of us thought about this.”

Jazzy snorts. “Thank you Harry, this is one of the best presents I’ve gotten. Now to possibly tell my parents or just, like, let them find out like with all my tattoos.”


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the FIRST part, trust me there's plenty more

Jazzy is on the edge between sleep and wakefulness, much closer to the side of sleep, Link curled against her face when her spider sense starts, quiet and slow, no more than a subtle tingle. Jazzy tries to ignore it, knowing it is much too early to be awake, but it grows until she can’t ignore it and there’s a steady pounding in her head like a bass drum. She shifts, brows pulling together, but she doesn’t open her eyes. A weight comes to rest over her hips and something begins pressing at her throat. Jazzy’s eyes are open in an instant.

Norman Osborn is over her, legs pinning her body down and his rough hands clasped against her throat. His green eyes pierce through her, seeming to stare at some place beyond her. Fear fills Jazzy’s chest and erupts in a scream cut short by Norman’s grip tightening around her throat. Jazzy consciously stops using her trachea, allowing her skin and spiracles to take in the oxygen for her. A splitting, psychotic grin spreads across Norman’s face.

_This is why you listen to your fucking spider sense, Jazzy._

Jazzy maneuvers her arms under the covers and pushes Norman off with probably too much force. His hands release her neck as he topples onto the floor. Jazzy scrambles to her feet, panting, standing on the bed and glancing down at her puppy. She hears footsteps coming down the hallway. The door slams open as Norman stands up, showing Harry in the doorway. His father doesn’t even bother to look at him, going toward Jazzy with that same grin that Jazzy swears she’s seen before. Jazzy presses herself against the wall.

Harry rushes forward and plants himself between his father and Jazzy. “Dad! What are you doing?”

“Move out of the way, son,” Norman replies, eyes not bothering to move from Jazzy’s. “You are not a part of this.”

“I am if you’re threatening my friend,” Harry says, shoulders hunched up. “Leave her alone.”

Norman’s eyes flash down to Harry’s. “Move.” Jazzy cringes at the coldness of his tone.

“No,” Harry says, voice hard and final.

Norman raises his hand and Harry cowers backward, but otherwise doesn’t move. Jazzy watches his hand come closer to Harry’s face. She lunges forward and grabs his wrist, holding tight enough to bruise. Harry stares with wide eyes at his father’s hand mere centimeters from the side of his head. Norman wrenches his hand out of Jazzy’s grip, causing her to stumble forward before his hand wraps around her throat and he lifts her off the bed.

Jazzy looks down at Harry, fear clear in his eyes. “Harry, I need you to get my backpack, laptop, notebook, keys, and dog,” she gasps out.

“Shut up,” Norman growls. His hand constricts and Jazzy chokes.

She waves at Harry to get moving, and he does, gathering up Jazzy’s things and shoving them into her backpack before lifting Link up into his arms and rushing out of the room. Jazzy kicks upward, hitting Norman’s chin and sending him backward. She manages to scramble out of his grasp, standing back up and following Harry.

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asks, voice hushed.

“We’re getting out of here,” Jazzy states, looking back and seeing Norman stalking through the shadowed hall. “So grab whatever shit you need including Midna.” Harry looks back at his father before nodding and rushing to his room. Jazzy stares at Norman as he comes closer, leg shaking as she waits for Harry.

“You can’t leave,” Norman states.

“Harry,” Jazzy calls, voice wavering.

“Give me a sec!” he shouts back. Harry emerges from his room with his backpack over Jazzy’s on his back and Midna and Link in his arms. “Jazzy, come on.”

Jazzy shakes her head. “I can’t,” she squeaks. Her legs feel too heavy and she can’t get air through her bruised throat. “Just go.”

“I’m not leaving you with my sociopathic father, Jazzy.”

Jazzy turns to him, eyes meeting Harry’s, and finds that he doesn’t seem shocked by his own statement. “What?”

“My father is crazy, so am I, but in totally different ways. Come on!” He nudges her with his shoulder, causing her to stumble backwards. Norman is a few paces away.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Jazzy says, turning around and running after Harry to the front door as her fear kicks in.

Harry gets the door open and slams it behind him once Jazzy is out. They get in the elevator before Harry hands Jazzy her backpack and Link. “What the hell happened?”

“I woke up and he was choking me and it’s a fucking good thing I don’t need to use my trachea to breathe,” Jazzy hurriedly explains.

“Where are we going?”

“Eddie’s, I don’t know where else to go,” Jazzy says, voice cracking and tears welling in her eyes. “I knew he was going to try and kill me!”

“Jazzy, don’t freak out yet, you still gotta drive and we have animals. Just breathe.”

“Right, right.” Jazzy inhales deeply, closing her eyes and stroking Link’s back. “You knew he’s crazy.”

“Didn’t think he’d try to hurt you, physically at least,” Harry mutters. “But yeah.” The elevator dings and they step out into the garage. “I’ll tell you more later okay? Let’s just worry about getting to Eddie’s safely. How are we going to handle our pets?”

Jazzy stares at him once they reach her bike. “Just, uh, hold on to them, I’ll drive slow.” Midna mewls and Jazzy swings her leg over the bike. Harry gets behind her and she hands back Link. “You got them?”

“Yeah, helmets?”

“Not gonna bother,” Jazzy says, revving the engine. “Ready?”

“I fucking guess.”

Jazzy drives slow, like she promised, checking behind her every once in awhile to make sure Harry, Midna, and Link are still on the bike. They make it to Eddie’s apartment   
building with no police and no sign of Norman following them. She pulls into the alleyway where Eddie’s motorcycle is parked and stops next to his. They get off the bike and Link is handed to Jazzy again, and the two head up to Eddie’s apartment. Jazzy knocks on the door. He opens the door.

Eddie looks between them and their pets. “What the hell happened? It’s not even, uh, four.” Eddie steps aside anyway and Jazzy immediately heads to the couch, putting Link down gently before slinging her bag off her shoulders and setting it on the floor. She picks up Link again, putting the sleepy pup on her lap. Harry lingers by the door as Midna climbs over his shoulders.

“Norman tried to kill me,” Jazzy states, not bothering to look away from Link. “And he was going to hit Harry.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie states, continuing to look between them.

“Not like he hasn’t hit me before,” Harry murmurs.

Jazzy looks up at him. “What? Harry, is that why you know he’s crazy?”

“No,” Harry says with a shrug. “He told me he’s a sociopath when we found out I’m schizophrenic, but lately he’s been talking to himself and acting...more like me.”

“He hits you,” Eddie states. Harry nods. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I have,” Harry says, sitting down next to Jazzy. “Peter, Em-Jay, and Flash know. I think Felicia does too, but she has a way of figuring out secrets.” Harry sighs. “He’s my only family left, and I get it, it’s my fault. I piss him off, I’m not good enough, and I survived when my mom didn’t.” Jazzy stares, mouth agape, but she doesn’t know what to say.

Eddie’s hand grabs Harry’s shoulder. “It is not your fault, even if it feels like it. No parent should ever hit their kid or be blamed for a family member’s death, unless it was murder.” Harry stares up at Eddie. “You didn’t kill her, you are good enough.”

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about,” Harry states, “but you don’t.”

“I do,” Eddie replies. “My dad was the same way.” He pats Harry’s shoulder and walks over to the kitchen. Harry blinks. Jazzy hears the sound of water rushing out of the faucet before Eddie returns with two glasses of water. “You’re welcome to come over here whenever,” he tells them. “I can give you a key, Jazzy.”

Jazzy hums in response, looking over at Harry as he hangs his head. She sees tears drip down his face. “Harry?”

“‘M okay. How are you holding up?” He doesn’t bother to look up at her.

“Not the first time someone tried to kill me,” Jazzy says. “I’ll be fine.” Jazzy bites the inside of her cheek. “You want me to make you some hot chocolate?” Harry nods. 

“Okay. You want any, Eddie?”

“Sure,” he says. He stands up with Jazzy, taking the milk out of the fridge and a bag of chocolate chips from a cabinet.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Eddie asks, voice lowered to a whisper. “There are bruises on your neck.”

“They’ll fade within the hour,” Jazzy mutters. She looks back at Harry as she stirs the milk heating in the saucepan. “I just wish he told me.”

“Talking about it isn’t easy, not even for me and I haven’t seen my dad in over a decade.”

“That why you don’t talk about your family a lot?”

“Well, that and my mom died in childbirth, and my sister died in a plane crash with her husband. My dad practically disowned me, and other than my brother-in-law’s brother and his wife, there’s not really anyone.” Eddie stares at the bag of chocolate. “Well, I guess I do have a niece.”

“Yeah?” The milk begins to boil and Jazzy pours the chocolate chips in.

“Yeah, haven’t seen her since Mary’s funeral. Probably would’ve become her guardian if I wasn’t still in college.”

“Maybe you should reconnect.”

“Maybe,” Eddie agrees. “What about your family?”

“My mom has said some shit that definitely classifies as abusive, but that’s it,” Jazzy says with a shrug. She adds some salt into the pot. “I still talk to them, we have a family group chat, but I’m not super close to them, I guess.” She turns the burner off and ladles the hot cocoa into a few mugs that Eddie had put out. “Closest to my sister.” Jazzy grabs two of the mugs and walks back to the couch.

“Yeah,” Harry chimes in. “You talk about Justice a lot.” He takes the warm drink from Jazzy. “Thanks, let's see if it’s as good as mine.”

“Probably isn’t,” Jazzy says, sitting down. “You don’t mind the pets, right Eddie?”

“It’s fine, just as long as they don’t get into my shit.”

“Oh, uh, Eddie?” Jazzy asks. He looks at her. “When school starts again, can I leave Link here for you to look after him? I’ll pay for his food and whatnot.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “I...I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“It just, it really isn’t.”

Jazzy and Harry spend the next few days with Eddie, neither of them wanting to see Norman again so soon. Harry makes up for it by buying all the food. Jazzy works with Eddie on a few articles and gets her name on them. Link only pees twice inside the apartment and Midna only scratches the couch four times. Harry sleeps on the couch while Jazzy goes out each night, stopping gang members and muggers and finding herself unable to sleep. She came back the second night to find Eddie not at home.

“My dad says to come back,” Harry says on the fourth day while Eddie is at his office.

“Fuck that,” Jazzy immediately responds.

“He says he didn’t mean--”

“That’s a load of bullshit!”

“Jazzy, I know. We gotta go back, or at least I do, you can just ask Eddie if you can stay here for the rest of summer, you can keep all your stuff in my room.”

Jazzy thinks about it for a moment. “No, I’m not doing that.”

“What?”

“I don’t really want to see your father ever again but I also don’t want him to hurt you.”

“He’s going to hurt me whether you’re there or not.”

“But he hurts you less, right?”

Harry runs his tongue over his lip. “Yeah.”

“Then I’m staying the rest of the summer with you.”

Harry looks down. “Thanks, Jazzy.”


End file.
